The Throne of Edinburgh
by lickitysplit
Summary: With Izraf dead, Zeldris makes himself the king of Edinburgh and takes the princess Gelda as his own. But as they both struggle for the throne, a wholly different war begins to erupt between them. Rated M for explicit material. Now Complete!
1. The Vampire King

**Summary:** With Izraf dead, Zeldris makes himself the king of Edinburgh and takes the princess Gelda as his own. But as they both struggle for the throne, a wholly different war begins to erupt between them.

 **A/N:** It's funny how every time I publish a story, especially about Zeldris and Gelda, I feel as though I must apologize. Still must be my penance for _Sacred Inferno_. Ah well.

So this story started out as a... joke? Gift? Experiment? My very dear friend Cerulean Grace wanted to practice her beta skills, and I volunteered as tribute. Since I'm a complete ass, especially to my friends, my goal was to write a story that would make her scream as she worked on it. However, the joke was on me. At some point in this story, I actually got serious about writing it, and Cerulean Grace's guidance as a beta made this rise above just a wild lemon into an actual story.

I must warn you going forward that this is rated M for very explicit material. There are also extreme themes throughout so please read with caution if you are sensitive to such things.

Finally, I must once again sing the praises of Vetur02 who created the cover art for this story. Somehow she always gets dragged into my nonsense and manages to turn my words into a thing of beauty.

Please enjoy! This story will update every Thursday. Thank you for reading, and I welcome your feedback and/or screaming. I deserve your wrath for spamming this fandom.

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 **Chapter One: The Vampire King**

Zeldris sat in the throne of the Vampire King, laughing to himself. Dispatching of that pitiful excuse of a king was practically contemptible. The rumors that the vampires were planning some sort of revolt against the Demon Realm had been circulating for a quite a while, until the Demon King himself grew tired of hearing them. He ordered his youngest son to take back Edinburgh for the crown, and Zeldris was happy to oblige.

The vampires fought back, but their diminished numbers and powers made it easy for Zeldris to enter the castle nearly unchecked. His company of soldiers controlled a group of red demons set to destroy anyone that opposed them, and when they began their assault the guards in the castle quickly threw down their weapons and surrendered.

That did not save the aging king, however. As Zeldris stalked into the throne room, he had first tried to stay firm, ordering him back with whatever authority he could muster. Zeldris smiled to himself as he remembered the look on Izraf's face as he drew his sword, the king actually _begging_ for his life even as he slid the blade over his neck. The pathetic king of an even more pathetic race died a coward's death, and Zeldris found it hilarious.

For a moment he enjoyed the peace of the room, silent and still. Izraf's body still lay at the bottom of the dais, kicked off to the side a little, his head having rolled a few feet away. Blood dripped down the floor in tiny rivers, and Zeldris snorted at how far the fool had fallen in the end. He had ruled the vampires for nearly a thousand years; now he was nothing more than a heap of limbs and hair on the floor. It's no more than what he deserved, thinking the old magic would keep him and his own from harm. No one crossed the demons, least of all the king. Zeldris was suddenly filled with a deep sense of pride. Any who opposed them met the end of a sword.

The doors banged open, disturbing him for a moment, and Zeldris huffed to himself as he raised his eyes. Two of his own guard pulled in a figure between them, a tiny creature practically being dragged on slippered feet. Hands were bound in front, and a cloth was pulled over the head. "What do we have here?" he laughed, sitting forward in the throne with his elbows propped on his knees.

"It's the princess, Sire," one of the demons answered. Zeldris smirked, enjoying hearing the honorific used for him. "We found her hiding in the castle."

"Hiding?" he laughed, quickly standing and practically hopping down the steps. "Were you really hiding, princess?"

When he reached the bottom, he grabbed a hold of the cloth, yanking it from her head. The girl winced against the sudden light, gasping in fright for a moment. Then her eyes lifted to him, widening in surprise, and Zeldris smirked to himself over the the fear that tinged the edges. "You- you're a demon!" she breathed.

"Astute, this one," he laughed, the two guards joining in with their own. But the girl ignored them as her eyes moved around the room, finally landing on the body nearby. "Father!" she screamed wildly, pulling against the tight hold of the soldiers. "Father! _Father!_ "

"Shhhh," he whispered, raising a hand to cup her cheek. She continued to sob and scream, and with annoyance he slid his hand into her matted hair and pulled her face away sharply. "That's enough now," Zeldris warned.

The girl's chest was heaving as she stared at him in shock. Zeldris used the opportunity to study her further. Long blonde hair framed a delicate face, a graceful neck of pale smooth skin. She was nearly his own height, but her frame was small, her curves soft beneath the layers of dress she wore. The lightness about her was unusual for the vampire clan, and he thought for a moment he would have pursued her under different circumstances.

"Why would you do this?" she cried. "The vampires and demons are allies!"

Zeldris frowned. "Are you really so sheltered and naive? Or are you just stupid?"

Gelda aimed a kick at him that he easily dodged. "Let me go! Let me _go_!" she screamed.

"Enough." His voice was loud, and menacing, and enough to shock her out of her hysterics and force her focus back on him. Their eyes locked again, and his black ones bore into her light blue ones. There was something else besides the fear there now, a spirit of defiance that both intrigued and annoyed him; but he intended to crush it out of her. He eased the tight hold on her, and without leaving her gaze said, "Leave us."

Dropping her arms, the guards quickly followed orders and strode from the room, the door shutting with a loud bang behind them. The princess took in a shaking breath and tried to step backwards, but Zeldris held her firm, his eyes still roaming over her. "Will you kill me too?" she whispered.

Zeldris shook his head, amused by the question. "Not at all," he murmured. "I have other plans for you." He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, squeezing his fingers into her, and then dragged his hands up and down her arms. "What is your name?"

"Gelda," she said after a moment's hesitation, her voice shaking.

His hands roamed down her chest, smoothing over her sides. "Gelda," he said softly. "Did you love your father, Gelda?" Her eyes darted to the side, where his body grew cold on the ground, and Zeldris grabbed her chin and pulled her gaze back to him. "Tell me," he said, his thumb running along her bottom lip.

But she did not answer, her body beginning to tremble slightly as his fingers slid down her throat, dancing along her chest. "I see," he said. "Well, Gelda, I've always wanted a princess for a slave."

"No," she whispered, shaking her head, but he ignored her and continued, "I am your king now. You will serve me in all things. Do you understand?"

"No!" Gelda cried out. She turned to run, but Zeldris was much, much faster. In a moment he had a tight grip on her arm, yanking her against him before throwing her over his shoulder. He turned and stepped up the stairs of the dais towards the throne, dropping her in a heap on the large ornate chair. Gelda yelped as she caught herself from falling to the floor, and Zeldris stepped up over her, forcing her to scoot backwards on the throne.

"You're mine now," he said, firmly. Reaching down, he dragged her up against him, using one hand to grip the collar of her dress and pull as she pressed her bound hands against his chest uselessly. The fabric began to give way and the princess made a strangled sound in panic, the seams pressing into her before tearing apart. Without hurry or threat, he casually ripped the dress from her body until she was completely uncovered. Gelda shrank back into the chair, covering herself with her arms.

"Come now, Gelda," Zeldris said with a scolding tone. "Is that how you kneel before your king?"

"You are not my king!" she screamed, her eyes flashing with a sudden hatred that surprised him. "You are an animal! You are nothing but a disgusting demon!"

Her rant was cut off by Zeldris' hand gripping her by the throat. He turned her around so that her back pressed against him. Gelda whimpered as her hands flew to his arm, but she had no hope of pulling him away. He laughed in her ear as his other hand slid down her body, leisurely stroking her breasts and her stomach as she squirmed delightfully against him. "Yes," he said, giving her earlobe a nip with his teeth, "you will do nicely."

Zeldris chuckled at her intake of breath, the sound a sharp gasp against the hand pressed on her throat. "I am your king, Gelda," he said, his mouth sliding down the side of her neck. His hand moved to grip her hip, digging his fingers into her soft flesh. He grazed his teeth over her shoulder, laughing again as she shivered against him.

His hand moved across her thigh, and then slid between her legs. She stiffened, her head falling back against his shoulder as his fingers lazily stroked her, slow and deliberate. He continued to taste her skin, enjoying the softness as he kissed her cheek and her neck and her shoulder, running his tongue over her to savor the few beads of perspiration, inhaling the soft perfume she must have sprinkled on that morning before his attack on Edinburgh began.

Zeldris closed his eyes, his hand cupping her sex and stroking her as she grew wet against him, and imagined her in her room, choosing her dress and sitting prettily as her hair was brushed. He pictured the bottles of lotions on her dresser and the rich fabrics of her pillows. The silk ribbons and flashing jewels waiting for her attention. This princess was delicate as a flower but bold as fire. He had little doubt that he could smother that boldness, and she would break just as easily as the other vampires had. It would be a treat to do so, before he continued the rest of his plans for her. Almost absentmindedly his fingers pressed inside of her, not hearing her moan as his mind was too consumed with the image of her on her knees. She would do well after all.


	2. The Queensguard

**A/N:** I would like to again warn readers that this is rated M for its explicit nature, including violence, sexual themes, and non-consent. Please read at your own risk.

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 **Chapter Two: The Queensguard**

Gelda sat beside the throne, her knees drawn up against her chest, her hands still bound by rope, massaging her sore neck. Zeldris' hand on her throat had not hurt terribly, but the fingertips had dug deeply into her flesh. She had been afraid at first he _would_ kill her, even after he had assured her he would not; but once his other hand had squeezed her and stroked her and slid inside her, she knew exactly what he meant by _other plans_.

The demon sat in the throne, enjoying a small meal, which turned her stomach. Her eyes remained steady on her father's body, which still lay in a heap on the floor of the throne room. She tried to breathe slowly, determined not to cry again in front of the monster who had invaded their home and killed him.

Izraf had not been a doting or a loving father, and had more often than not could be described as indifferent and cold. But he had not been cruel to her, and had been an efficient enough king, even as he clung hard to the old traditions and magic. Zeldris had seemed to imply that he had come to destroy them for a reason other than pure hubris; but she knew that had to be impossible. The vampires had been allied with the demons for centuries. Her father would not have done anything to betray that ancient agreement.

 _Zeldris_. Her eyes flickered up to the young demon drinking from a goblet with relish. Cruelty and pride were etched into his face. Everything about him was dark: his hair, his eyes, the way he spoke, the devastating way he had done away with the king. She wondered who he was, really. Was it possible the Demon King did not know about this betrayal? A smile crossed her lips as she imagined the demon army descending down on Edinburgh, ready to avenge their ally against this pompous upstart who thought to defy his own king.

And if the Demon King decided to turn a blind eye to his treachery? Then Gelda would kill him herself.

"What are you smiling about, Gelda?" Zeldris asked. She looked up sharply to see him wiping his mouth, and a shudder of revulsion went through her. "Did you enjoy my attentions so much? Now don't go falling in love with me. I don't think your dear heart could take it." He laughed at her, causing the hatred to boil hot on her spine.

It was that laugh, that conceit that truly drove her fury. Death was a part of war, a part of life, and she could almost understand the king's murder. What better way to usurp the vampires than to do away with their monarch? But the disgrace of cutting his head from his body, that could not be forgiven.

Neither could the way he had torn her clothes from her, so leisurely, and the casual way he had touched her. As if he had any right to even look on a princess! Had any right to touch her, or to say her name, or to force her…

But to her surprise, he hadn't forced himself on her. He had simply stroked her with that deliberate pace, his mouth teasing her skin. To her mortification it had sent the most tantalizing shivers through her body, and her body betrayed her even further by growing wet and hot under his attention until a muted throbbing had built between her legs. After several agonizing minutes of this, where he continued to murmur and lick her skin, he had simply stopped, allowing her to sag down to the floor in her humiliation, but not letting her put back on her clothes.

Zeldris' voice called a greeting suddenly, and Gelda jerked up and looked over her shoulder. She gasped when she saw the four members of her guard enter, their weapons gone, their wrists shackled in chains. Zeldris tossed his napkin at her and stood, stepping down the dais without a glance in her direction.

"Is this the Queensguard of legend?" Zeldris proclaimed, rubbing his hands together. "Four of the most elite soldiers of the Vampire King tasked to give their lives for the protection of the queen. And since Izraf had no queen, your protection fell to…" He finally turned around and looked at her, and Gelda dropped her gaze in embarrassment. "Your protection went to Gelda here."

No one spoke or moved for a moment. Then, he gestured with his hand, and to Gelda's surprise, one of the soldiers swiped a palm over the shackles, causing them to fall from her guards. "I know you were just doing your duty as you tried to kill my soldiers. I would expect nothing less from you!" He gave a cold smile as the vampires glanced at one another, unsure of what to do. "I admire such loyalty," he continued. "And if you can prove your loyalty to me, I will allow you to live."

Gelda did not raise her head, but listened attentively. She silently prayed that one of them would draw his sword and run him through, but her back stiffened when one said, "What do we have to do?"

The princess felt a strong hand on her arm, nearly dragging her down the steps as she tried to stand. She was deposited on her feet in front of the soldiers, her eyes widening as she looked at each one. They also stared back in shock, some in horror, while others were in curiosity. Gelda quickly lifted her arms to try to cover herself, her face burning.

"Izraf's daughter is now mine," Zeldris explained. "She is no longer your princess, but simply my slave. She needs to learn that she is no better. You will teach her this lesson."

Gelda turned to look at Zeldris' even expression, her voice shaking as she whispered, "Wh-what?" But even as the question fluttered past her lips, Ganne, the largest of the guard, asked, "How do we do that?"

"Simple. Gelda is going to pleasure each of you with her mouth." They did not answer, once again in shock, and Zeldris turned his cool gaze to her. "Down on your knees," he commanded.

Gelda shook her head, panic rising in her throat and threatening to come out as a scream. With a huff Zeldris yanked her arm sharply, and she fell to the floor, reaching out to brace herself just in time before she hit face-first. She snapped her face back up to protest, but before she could utter a word one of the guards stepped forward. "You will _not_ defile our princess!" he cried, throwing a fist towards Zeldris.

The demon was lightning fast, grabbing the vampire by the wrist and twisting. Gelda watched in horror as the guard screamed in pain as he was flung backwards; at the same time, Zeldris drew his sword and plunged it into his stomach. He wrenched it free and the vampire dropped to the ground in a heap. Kicking it away with a sigh, he turned back to the others and said, "Are there any other objections?"

His eyes slid to hers, and Gelda watched him helplessly, her body shaking with the sudden unexpected violence. It was as if he had captured her with his eyes, and she was so stunned that she did not notice the others gathering around her until a hand slid into her hair. With a gasp she whipped back around to see the three guards surrounding her, pulling open their clothes and reaching hands inside the fabric.

Gelda whimpered and closed her eyes. One of them— either Ganne or his brother, Mod—stepped forward to slide the wet tip of his member down her cheek. "No biting," a rough voice said, definitely Mod that time, and then the hand in her hair pulled sharply. She cried out with the flash of pain, and suddenly warm flesh was pressed inside of her mouth, sliding roughly inside.

Her eyes flew open as she looked up at her guardsman, a soldier who yesterday would have given his life for her. Now he stroked himself in and out of her mouth, his chin to his chest as he watched. Gelda tried to pull away, but the hand on her head held her steady, leaving her unable to escape. She tried to relax her jaw as the fevered flesh grew inside of her mouth, lengthening until it hit the back of her throat. Unable to help herself she gagged a bit, and mercifully Mod slowed for a moment to allow her to catch her breath.

In and out, in and out, he moved, tilting her head back so he could enter her throat at an ever-deepening angle. The princess gasped with each long, slow stroke. When she swallowed harshly around him, trying to suck some air into her lungs, he jolted, and then looked at the others with a laugh, "I think she likes this!"

Gelda moaned around him, her eyes closing in humiliation. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she willed herself not to cry, even as heat seared in her throat. In and out, in and out, it continued, until Gelda's lips and mouth were numb, and her cheeks were wet from where a few tears had managed to escape.

Suddenly the length was pulled from her mouth, but before she could even take a breath it was replaced by another, this one moving with a force that was much faster and much more urgent. It was longer than the other, but not as thick, and she struggled against the hand holding her still so she could try to position herself better, the tip of him battering against the back of her throat. After a few seconds, minutes, hours of this battering rhythm, her mouth was released again with barely a gasp; then the other returned, the taste and the feel of this one all at once familiar.

On and on it went, one and then the other, and Gelda lost count as to how many times she was passed between them. Then finally they pulled away, and Gelda slumped down a bit, breathing deeply. She kept her eyes closed tightly, not wanting to look up into theirs, not wanting to see if their expressions were those of pleasure. Another hand gripped her hair, tugging her to the side, and her shoulders shook as she tried not to panic. Fingers traced the line of her jaw, then over her lips; then the unmistakable feel of a head pressing against her lips.

"Please," she whispered, suddenly exhausted, longing for a cool drink or a breeze or even to sink against the cold floor. Her skin was on fire from her humiliation, and her legs and back ached from kneeling on the stone. Her head hurt, the strands of her hair causing sharp twinges when one would pull them. Gelda wanted to curl up into herself and never face the world again, least of all Zeldris.

"Gelda." His voice came then, a warning, the tone sounding as if he was chastising a child. Her eyes darted towards the sound, and in her stupor she saw him sitting in the throne, in _her father's throne_ , watching them use her! A rage seared through her then as she spied his amused smile, and he tapped a finger to his lips and said, "Go on, my dear. Finish your job."

Gritting her teeth, she tried to throw an insult, but only managed to stutter out, "You—you—" She felt a prick of satisfaction as she noted an eyebrow raise; but that lasted momentarily, as Gelda was suddenly pushed backwards, the breath knocked from her as she toppled over herself.

There was a growl next, and Gelda saw Eion, the final guard climbing on top of her. "I'll have you now," he hissed, shoving her legs apart even as her head swam from hitting the floor and the abrupt change of position. His hands planted on either side of her, and he growled again; then, Gelda felt him press against her body, his hips grinding hard against her, and she knew immediately what was about to happen. "No!" she cried, trying to wrench herself away, but his hips had her pinned, his thighs forcing hers up and back.

Without warning, Eion went flying off of her, and she scrambled up as best as she could with her bound hands to see what had happened. Zeldris stepped over her, his expression positively murderous, and he kicked Eion in the head again, sending him toppling across the floor. "I said her _mouth_ , you moron," he bit out, stalking towards where the soldier now lay on the ground, unmoving. He began to kick him viciously, and Gelda watched in shock as the blood seeped from the guard with each blow. Then Zeldris stepped back, a disgusted look on his face, and spat, "A soldier who cannot follow a simple direction doesn't deserve to live."

Then he turned back to them, his eyes looking Gelda over. She trembled, too stunned and horrified to even attempt to cover herself. Then his gaze flickered up to Ganne and Mod and he said, "Take her back to her room, and keep her there."

Zeldris turned and walked out. Gelda watched him go, and then she was grabbed by the elbows and hauled to her feet. She wrenched away from her two former guards, stumbling forward to scoop of the remains of her clothing, clutching it tightly against her to salvage whatever dignity Zeldris had left her. "We didn't get to finish," one huffed behind her; then, as she crouched down to sweep up another heap of fabric that was next to the body of the only loyal guardsman, the other answered, "Perhaps the princess will oblige us once we are back in her room."

She froze, her blood pounding and thundering in her head. She heard their footsteps behind her, and she quickly wrapped the fabric into her arms, when she spied something on the ground. Gelda reached out and felt her fingers slip around the cool feel of metal. It was a small dagger that had come loose from its hiding spot on the guard when he fell. Without hesitation she wrapped it inside her bundle, and not a moment too soon; Ganne and Mod grabbed her up, pulling her to her feet, and then they swept her from the room.


	3. Training Begins

**Chapter 3: Training Begins**

Several hours later, Zeldris walked towards Gelda's chambers. It was late, very late, and he was more exhausted than he had expected. The adrenaline from the thrill of the fight and killing his enemy, followed by the amusing interaction with the princess, had long dissipated. Now he looked forward to sleep, finally assured that the castle was secure and there would be no uprisings from the vampires in the night.

But first, he wanted to visit the little princess. She was absolutely beautiful, and he was looking forward immensely to using her in a multitude of ways in the upcoming weeks. Zeldris found it funny that she seemed to be the only vampire left who was loyal to the throne; everyone else who survived the fight had pledged their loyalty and laid down their weapons. He smirked as he thought of her own guards abusing her on his command. It had been an easy, clean victory for him and the demon clan.

If Gelda continued to insist on defying him, he would have to teach her a lesson. Not that he wouldn't enjoy it; a part of him almost hoped she would hold onto her ridiculous ideas of challenging his authority, at least for a little while. What a treat it would be to watch her break for him. But in the end, sedition would not be tolerated, princess or no; having to deal with her stubbornness would intrude on the other plans he had for her. It would be easiest just to kill her, but Zeldris needed her to secure his place as the king of Edinburgh, and ensure that no one tried to take the throne back.

When he reached her room, he was pleased to see the two guards standing outside. They both bowed as he approached, but when he reached for the doorknob, the larger one cleared his throat. "Your Majesty," he said gruffly.

"What?" Zeldris bit out.

"The, uh—the princess," he answered nervously. "She never finished—I mean—"

The soldier stopped his stammering when Zeldris turned his glare to him. "Get out." He and his brother made a hasty exit, and finally the demon entered the bedroom.

Gelda had been sitting in a chair by the window, and jumped up startled when he entered. "You—you can't come in here! This is my room!" she exclaimed.

Zeldris only laughed and let his eyes roam the room as he walked around. It was just as he had imagined: ornate furniture, rich fabrics, a large vanity table in the center of the room. He moved towards it, letting his fingers trace over the ornate brushes and combs, the fine jewelry box, the bottles of lotions- there was even the basket of ribbons. Chuckling to himself, he finally looked over at the girl, who was standing as still as a statue as she watched him.

She truly was a vision, he decided. Her dress was black, for mourning he presumed, and it set off her pale skin and shining eyes. It was much less formal than the one he had ripped off of her in the throne room, and he could easily trace his eyes over her figure. His fingers itched to pull down the intricate braid that fell over her shoulder, or to wrap around her small waist. He wanted to hear her squeals of protest and of delight. But most of all, he wanted to see that spark in her eyes as she opened herself for him.

"I see you've dressed," he said flatly. Gelda's expression remained as cold as stone, but she smoothed her hands down the front of the gown she wore. "I don't recall telling you to do that."

Zeldris watched as she sucked in a breath, and then she took a hesitant step forward. "I don't know what you—"

"Did you not hear me?" he snapped at her, cutting her off as he slowly walked across the room. "Take off that dress."

They stared at each other for a long moment. When she made no indication of moving, Zeldris moved in a flash, snatching her up against him before she could voice any protest. He spun her so that her back was to him, and then he grabbed the back of her dress and pulled it open, buttons popping off and clattering on the floor. "You _will_ obey me, Gelda," he ground out, yanking the fabric down her body. She was now bare to the waist, and using the fabric bunched at her hips, Zeldris turned her again to pull her against him. Her sleeves were entangled around her wrists, so he wrapped one arm around her and twirled his fist around the fabric. Gelda's hands were now trapped behind her; he held onto her tightly, making it impossible for her to move.

"I've had enough of you," he growled into her ear. Zeldris bit her earlobe then, sucking the soft flesh into his mouth, and his chest tightened as he felt her shiver. He pushed his fist in against the small of her back, forcing her to press completely against him. Then he dragged his tongue down the side of her neck, enjoying the taste of her skin. The truth was, he could not recall anyone as lovely as her, and having her pressed tightly against him was making it difficult for him not to take her as he wanted. But he knew if he did that, it would only reinforce her desire to challenge him; instead, he needed to break through this wall of opposition.

Zeldris grazed his teeth along her shoulder. "Is this how you vampires do it?" he murmured against her. Then he bit into her skin, on the side of her shoulder, and Gelda yelped and jerked against him. "No?" he said licking the dark mark that was now there with satisfaction. "Hmmm… is it like this?" His mouth dipped into the crook of her neck, right where it met her shoulder. He sunk his teeth into her again, and again Gelda moaned, her body trying to pull from his hold. Then she sighed shakily as he licked the new mark.

"Still not right," he said. Then he bit the side of her neck, hard this time, and Gelda gasped. But instead of letting go, he started to suck firmly on her flesh. His mouth worked quickly, forming a tight suction against her, and the princess squirmed fitfully, tilting her head in a useless attempt to move away. Yet all that did was expose more of her delicious skin to him, and Zeldris continued his work, not stopping until her moans turned into cries of pain.

"Ow! Ow, please!" she squealed, and Zeldris pulled back with satisfaction, looking down lustfully at the marks that now dotted her body. The hand not gripping her, which had been held tightly to her hip, he now dragged up her body to roughly palm one breast. He turned and pushed her forward until they hit the bed, and then he pressed her down until his body draped over hers, face-down on the bed.

Gelda squirmed, trying to wrench her hands free of the dress. "I think your guard was right," he laughed as he watched, "You are enjoying this." Suddenly she stilled, and Zeldris used the opportunity to snatch the rest of the dress off of her. After shifting his weight onto the bed he weaved one arm through both of hers and against her back, keeping them trapped in place, before he used the other to drag his palm down her side, tracing the hourglass figure of her shape.

Zeldris slowly moved his hand downwards, his eyes taking in her slim thighs and the enticing curve of her hips. Grabbing onto her backside, he dug his fingers in cruelly to make her jolt again. With a laugh he then slid his hand between her legs, and Gelda's thighs pressed together tightly in response.

"Open for your king," he said sternly, but the princess only shivered. He gripped one thigh and shoved it open, dragging his thumb along her slit.

"Don't move," Zeldris commanded, pressing his hand tightly on the back of her thigh. Then he slid his hand under her again, rubbing his palm slowly up and down her sex. "You belong to me now, Gelda," he murmured, and then pulled his palm from her, replacing it with feather-light strokes of his fingertips.

She whimpered, pressing her face down into the bedding, but Zeldris felt no hurry. It was relaxing, even, after the heavy day, to graze his fingers up and down her soft skin. This went on for several minutes, and he felt himself relaxing against her, pressing his lips on her spine. But even as he relaxed, Gelda's breathing was increasing; and before he realized he was drowsing, he felt Gelda shift underneath him, opening her legs wider.

Her movement jolted him fully awake, and he looked down at the vampire. Her arms were still pinned behind her by his forearm, one knee pulled high and wide on the bed beside them. Zeldris could hear her panting, and watched with interest as her shoulders lifted and fell with shaking breath. Experimentally he stroked her again, and to his satisfaction she tilted her hips up and back, trying to press against him.

Quickly he moved behind her, using one of his legs to spread hers even wider. He released her arms but held his hand firmly against her back so she could not move; however, after a few brief minutes where she struggled and whimpered under him, Zeldris realized he didn't even need to do that anymore. Gelda braced her hands on the bed with a groan and began to tilt her hips backwards to allow him full access to her body.

The excitement inside him built as he greedily slid his fingers between her lips. She was wet, and he gave a hum of appreciation as he spread her. Gelda gasped, and Zeldris watched her, pleased to see her clenching her fists into the bedding underneath her.

Pressing his hand forward, he carefully stroked her, teasing the bundle of nerves above her entrance. A spark lit beneath his own skin as he watched her rock her hips slightly, moaning with pleasure in time with his hand. Zeldris could feel his own body beginning to respond, and for a moment he debated whether this would be the right time. He gripped himself tightly over his clothing, squeezing to relieve some of the building pressure; but then thought better of it, wanting to make her suffer for denying him, wanting to ingrain in the girl that she was _his_ to do with exactly as he pleased.

With a growl he quickened his pace. Gelda moaned beautifully, and he could easily see the flushed and swollen lips becoming slick with her arousal. Her body was moving freely now, her hips rocking back and forth against his hand. Zeldris ignored his own arousal, concentrating fully on the princess, how she moved and how she sounded; and then, as her moans turned into a sharp cry of pleasure, he abruptly pulled his hand away.

Gelda shuddered, catching her breath, and she bucked backwards against him, lifting her backside towards him enticingly. It took everything within him not to pull his own clothing free and sink himself inside her, but Zeldris was too filled with anticipation for her surrender. He watched her struggle underneath him for several moments, and then he stood. "I think that's enough for now," he said harshly, his voice like gravel.

"Wh-what?" she panted, looking over her shoulder at him. Suddenly heat flared across her face, and she quickly scrambled up to sit, Zeldris observed the deep blush of embarrassment on her face, and the way her thighs twisted together, and he laughed to himself.

With quick strides he headed for the ornate armoire, throwing it open with relish. He pulled dresses and cloaks and blouses out, tossing them unceremoniously on the floor, until he found what he wanted. With a long scarf in his hand, he returned to the bed, snatching up a very wide-eyed Gelda by the arm and pulling her off of the mattress and onto the floor. He ignored her cries of protest as he quickly wrapped the fabric around each wrist; then he dragged her a few inches to the corner of the bed, securing the cord efficiently with a tight knot to the bedpost.

"There you are," he said, looking down at the princess. Gelda struggled a bit, testing the ties, and then looked up at him with pleading expression, her arms slightly raised at an angle and her thighs still pressing tightly together. "Please, please don't—"

"I suggest you get some sleep," he said. Then he kicked off his boots and removed his shirt before laying down on the princess' bed and promptly falling asleep.


	4. Waiting for Release

**Chapter 4: Waiting for Release**

For days the game continued. Gelda spent most of her time locked in her room, a guard posted by her door and making it impossible to escape. She had considered trying to go out the window, but there always seemed to be people on the ground far below her; she wondered if Zeldris was having her watched there, too. At least once a day he would summon her, and she was expected to sit prettily in the throne room and watch as he managed some issue or another. Many of the vampires who remained alive were coming before the new king to offer their allegiance, and it seemed as if he wanted her there to show off that he did indeed have ultimate authority.

The days were not a terrible existence; at least Zeldris allowed her to wear clothes in the throne room. But at night, he always returned to her room, stripping her down and putting his hands all over her. He touched her everywhere, kissed her all over, as if he was exploring her body. Yet the most humiliating part of it was how much he left her wanting.

Sometimes he would pull her into the bed and climb on top of her, her body pinned down by his as he kissed her body languidly, taking his time, enjoying himself. The first time he had done that, the very next night after he had tied her to the bed, she had tried to fight back a bit, so he simply tied her again and continued with what he had been doing. Other times would be rougher, harder, and he would bend her over a piece of furniture, or press her against a wall. Once he stood behind her at the window, opened so that anyone who happened by could see her flushed face and the thin line of perspiration on her body.

Zeldris never kissed her, however, which confused her immensely. He tasted every other part of her body, but would never seal his mouth over hers, which is something that she reluctantly wished for. If this was her life now, if she had to submit herself to him now, why couldn't she have a bit of pleasure from it? She contemplated kissing him, surprising him, but she feared how he would react.

Yet every night ended the same way: Zeldris would deny her the climax she craved, drawing her body expertly towards her inevitable explosion, but never allowing her to experience the fall she needed. Sometimes she would get so close, her body would pulse in anticipation; but he always would draw away, knowing somehow when the exact moment arrived that he could deny her. Gelda would be left panting and shaking, the need throbbing between her legs, but Zeldris would tie her to the end of the bed before laying down to sleep, not even allowing her to use her hands to find her own end.

It became harder and harder each night not to beg him to allow her release. To her humiliation, now when she saw him her body would immediately respond, her sex growing wet in anticipation, her skin flushing with heat at the sight of him. She did not know if Zeldris knew this, but the way he would smile at her so coldly when she entered the throne room, or when he entered her bedroom, made her suspect he knew exactly what he was doing. That filled her with fury, which rose up when she was not subject to his hands and his mouth, one that became hot and sharp when mixed with the agony of him stopping again and again. Each time the tears rose up in the back of her throat, she would think of the dagger, hidden carefully in a drawer but out of reach from where she was tied each night.

Days and days went by of this seemingly unending torture, until it was all Gelda could think about. The few hours she would be able to sleep were filled with dreams of his mouth and his hands, the days were spent daydreaming of him saying her name and sinking his body inside of hers. When he undressed her each night, Gelda never fought him, _wanting_ him to touch her and silently praying that this time, _this_ would be the night he allowed her to reach the pleasure she craved.

All of this only left Gelda embarrassed and confused, mortified by how much she wanted him, hating him for doing this to her. As Zeldris pressed his body against her, Gelda tried to envision her father's body defiled and discarded on the floor of his castle. Instead, she rocked her hips against him, her heart fluttering when he would make a noise of approval against her. He would kiss her neck, or her ear, and she would turn her face to try to capture his lips, never feeling more than the faintest brush of them before he would move to taste another part of her. If she tried to reach out for him, to tease him or stroke him or just try to steady herself against his assault of pleasure, he would pin her or tie her so she could not move.

The frustration grew until Gelda decided she would end it, once and for all.

* * *

Zeldris entered the princess' room in a bit of a temper. The vampires had all surrendered, but their infuriating and backwards ways of doing everything was driving him mad. His father had allowed him to take Edinburgh for his own if he paid tribute to the demon king, a bargain he eagerly accepted; but filling his father's demands for wealth and for slaves was taking longer than he wanted to keep the king waiting. It was as if the vampires could not do anything without the direct instruction of their king, and he grew frustrated with their ineptness.

The only saving grace of this entire wretched place was Gelda. Each night he was rewarded with the princess, who was beautiful and soft and filled him with a desire he had never experienced for anyone else. He had kept up the torturous game of teasing her in order to teach her her place, and now he found that _he_ was the one craving the feel her body, the sounds she made, the taste of her skin. He loved how she responded to him now, hot and wet and ready for him as soon as he arrived, no longer fighting him when he positioned her the way he wanted. It was getting closer now, the time when he would end Gelda's torture and take her as his own; but not quite yet. He could still feel her eyes piercing with malice when she looked at him outside of her bedroom. He could still feel the hatred that rolled off her when he spoke to her.

Gelda was going to be his, that was no longer any question. He had toyed with the idea of using her to solidify his place as king of Edinburgh: now he was certain. Gelda was going to be his queen, and bear his son, and serve him. All he needed now was for her to want this, too.

Zeldris suspected he was getting close. The malice in her eyes when she looked at him was easily replaced with desire for him once he began to touch her. The moans that came from her, the way she now arched against him, and even the way she would try to catch his mouth with hers did not escape his notice. She wanted him, that was undeniable. A part of him missed the spark that Gelda had shown, the princess that had thought she was too above being a slave. He had taught her that no one was above him, but he had enjoyed the lessons immensely. Getting the results he craved was proving to be a bit bittersweet.

"Gelda," he called as he entered the room. "I want—"

He was cut off as a pair of arms wrapped around him, a pair of lips crushed over his own. Zeldris wasn't often taken by surprise, but this princess managed to shock him with her bold attack. He stood stunned for several moments as her hands slid through his hair and her mouth massaged his. She pressed him backwards, and after a step or two he felt the hard wood of the door against his back. Gelda rocked herself forward, using her body to pin him there. One hand held tightly to his hair, the other snaked around his waist, and Gelda tilted her head to the side in an attempt to deepen the kiss.

The feel of her tongue along his lips snapped him from his shock, and he grabbed her by her braid and yanked her backwards. Gelda yelped, clenching her fingers as he pulled. Sharp bursts of pain shot through his scalp as his hips were pulled forward against hers. "Stop," he said breathlessly.

But she did not listen; instead, she surged forward again, pulling his mouth against hers. Zeldris grabbed her by the arms and turned, slamming her back against the wall. "What is wrong with you?" he shouted. He took in her heaving chest, the flush of her skin, her eyes shining wild and bright. He grinned and loosened his grip, taking a step closer to her.

"Do you want me that badly?" he laughed. His hands left her arms so that Zeldris could brace himself against the wall; but then there was a sharp pain in his stomach, and he looked down in disbelief to see a dagger jutting from just below his chest.


	5. The Knife's Edge

**Chapter 5: The Knife Edge**

The pain was sharp, unexpected, and Zeldris stared at the hilt jutting from his torso for a long moment. Never had he thought that the princess would do such a thing; he had thought for sure that the fire that burned inside of her had been nearly snuffed out. Something twisted inside of him that had nothing at all to do with the injury he had just sustained.

His eyes flew back up to Gelda's face, which was filled in cold determination. They stared at each other for a moment, and then her eyes flickered wider as realization set in. "I— I—" she stuttered.

"Did you really think a dagger would do the trick, Gelda?" Zeldris asked, his voice dripping with contempt. She shrank back against the wall as much as she could, but remained trapped between his arms on either side of her.

"Pull it out." He watched with some satisfaction as her shoulders stiffened at his command, but after a moment's hesitation her hands went to the hilt and quickly pulled the blade from him. Zeldris was careful not to wince, not to give any indication that the knife was anything more than an annoyance. Immediately he felt himself beginning to heal, the skin and muscle beneath sewing itself together, the blood clotting instantly. The dagger clattered loudly on the floor as she instantly dropped it, and her palms flattened back against the wall.

Zeldris dragged his gaze down her, happy to see her trembling slightly. He was glad she was frightened, and she _should_ be; he was sure she didn't realize this, but she had been scant centimeters away from piercing one of his hearts. However, there was also a part of him that was impressed by her daring. His princess still had a bit of spirit yet.

He pushed forward against her, enjoying her gasp, and he sealed his mouth over hers. Now that he was in control of the kiss, Zeldris could enjoy the soft fullness of her lips and the delicate taste of her mouth. He had denied them both for many days, putting off this first kiss until she wanted nothing else. Now, finally having captured her mouth, he licked her lips, slowly savoring her. Gelda was frozen against him, barely breathing; but when he caught her bottom lip with his teeth and pulled, she gasped and pressed back against him, opening and slanting her mouth to deepen the kiss.

But Zeldris was not ready to reward her so easily. The second she returned the kiss he stepped backwards. Gelda actually gave a little squeak in protest, which sent a shiver up his spine.

He ran a hand over his torso, checking to make sure the wound had closed. Then he reached to his hip and pulled out his own dagger. He held it up for Gelda to see. She swallowed visibly, turning her eyes down to the floor.

"Gelda," he said. "Now this is not the way to catch my attention."

She looked up at him, a blush forming over her cheeks, and Zeldris smiled. "I—I didn't—You've been—been _teasing_ me, and I—"

He bent forward a bit, pressing the edge of the blade against her throat. She shivered and tried to move away, but Zeldris carefully dragged the dagger along the length of her neck, keeping her still. "You are my slave," he murmured. "I will do as I please."

Zeldris pressed the tip of the blade into her, nicking her skin. The princess whimpered, her head falling back against the wall. The demon chuckled, pressing the flat of the metal against her before turning his wrist, tearing the dagger through the collar of her dress with one swipe. Gelda cried out as he dragged his arm down, slicing easily through the fabric until it hung open on her form.

Quickly he sheathed the dagger, then unhooked the scabbard from around his waist. Gelda watched him in shock as he dropped it to the floor. Zeldris pulled his shirt over his head before grabbing the shoulders of her dress and pulling it from her body, leaving her completely bare, exactly the way he wanted her every night. Smirking, he watched a pink flush spread along her skin, noticing the way her thighs immediately pressed together, observing the way her nipples grew hard under his gaze.

With one quick movement, he grabbed her and put her over his shoulder. Gelda yelped in surprise, and Zeldris gave her a sound smack on her backside. "None of that," he snapped as he dropped her on the bed, climbing over her as she bounced on the mattress. "I'm about to give you what you wanted."

Gelda gasped, and he grabbed her hips and pulled her towards him. Zeldris pushed her thighs apart. Reaching between them, he slipped his fingers along her slit, murmuring in approval to find her so wet. He toyed with her body, easily building her arousal with the lessons he had learned over the days and days of teasing her. Zeldris knew exactly where to touch, how hard to press, the spot to press against inside of her walls, and was rewarded with Gelda rocking against his hand as she wantonly squirmed on the bed. He watched carefully as she tumbled head first towards orgasm, and again, he pulled his hand away moments before her body found its release.

"Please!" she screamed. Her hands clutched the bedsheets as she tried to press her thighs together, but his hands on her knees kept her spread open. Gelda arched up, her back bowing on the bed. "Please! Please!" she cried. "Zeldris, please!"

It was the first time she had spoken his name, and the sound set his blood on fire. One hand moved to cup her sex, and he ground the heel of his hand into her as a finger slipped inside. Gelda groaned and began to rock her hips. She pumped up and down repeatedly, crying out over and over as she again sped towards climax.

This time, when he took his hand away, he knelt on the bed between her legs. He was straining in his pants, the fabric pulling painfully against him, but hearing her beg had lit a fire inside him he didn't know existed. He had not even known he had wanted to hear his name so badly until she had shouted it in her need.

His hands went to her breasts, squeezing hard, his thumbs pressing against her nipples. Gelda drew her legs up and apart, and she rolled her back until she curved into him. "Please," she moaned, low and long, her head rolling to the side and her eyes fluttering closed.

Zeldris rocked his hips forward, pressing his erection against her core. The fabric was instantly damp, and his body twitched in response as he dragged the hard length of him along her slit. She was so wet, he thought he could slip inside of her easily, and unable to stop himself he rocked his hips slowly, the head of him straining in the fabric as it nudged at her opening. Gelda groaned, but he barely noticed; all he could do was watch in silent fascination, swearing he could see her body pulsating.

Swallowing, he dragged his eyes away from where he desperately wanted to join her and back up to her face. Gelda's face was turned, eyes half-lidded, mouth slightly parted as she sighed with pleasure each time he pressed against her. In denying her these past weeks, he had denied himself too; he had not wanted to let her see him so vulnerable just yet, but would use the image of her panting and moving under him when he found his own relief afterwards. But now it was so close, she was _so close_ , and he knew as soon as he pulled the fabric away from his body he would sink inside of her, and they would _both_ find their end within moments.

With an incredible effort, Zeldris pulled away. Gelda turned her head and watched him stand next to the bed, biting her lip and whimpering. This is what he did every night; pulled her as close to the edge as he could, and then left her shaking and throbbing. He could see she knew it was coming: another night denied, another day to spend in twisting anticipation.

"Gelda," he snapped, and was pleased when she shuddered. "Come and see what your body does to me."

Her eyes went wide, and then she was scrambling up, clambering across the bed on her hands and knees to kneel in front of him on the edge of the mattress. She perched back with her legs tucked under her, and her hands were tentative as she pressed her palms on his stomach. "Let me—let me kiss you?" Gelda asked.

Zeldris appreciated the fact that she wanted him, but he did not approve of the request. "You tested me," he said coldly. "Your little attempt to kill me was hardly amusing. Now I am testing you." Gelda blinked as he gazed at her, and then he opened the closures on his pants, finally freeing his throbbing erection. "Now kiss me, Gelda."

Her breath caught; Zeldris knew she was thinking of the first lesson, the one in the the throne room, and he waited to see if she would obey. To his surprise and satisfaction she bent forward, bracing one hand on the mattress as the other splayed around the top of his thigh. Her body tilted downwards as Gelda angled herself towards him, her hips rising enticingly behind her. She moved slowly, hesitantly, and then her lips brushed the head of him before she wrapped her mouth around him.

With a groan he pressed forward and Gelda relaxed her mouth, allowing him to slide inside until he felt the back of her throat. Slowly he moved, not wanting to finish too quickly, slipping in and out, bending his hips to drag his length over her tongue, then surging forward, eager to feel her mouth grip him tightly. It was perfect, simply exquisite; her mouth soft and hot and sucking on him almost eagerly.

A hand slid through her hair, his fingers pulling loose the plaits of her braid. He gathered all of her silky blonde tresses with both hands and pulled, dragging her body from the bed. Gelda yelped as she slid over the side and hit the floor, and he positioned her head at the center of him as she scrambled up on her knees, thrusting forward to push himself inside her mouth again. Here, from this angle, he could slide even deeper into her throat, and Gelda shook in his hands, kneeling perfectly still as he used her mouth as he wanted.

Zeldris could only continue for another minute before he pulled away. His body was throbbing, twitching, the head bobbing as Gelda panted. Her breath feathered over him, which caused a tremor of desire to erupt under his skin. With a heaving breath he gripped her by the arms and hauled her back onto the bed, laying on top of her and kissing her hard, his mouth rough and punishing. He pressed his tongue into her, swallowing her protests, relishing the plumpness of her swollen lips, tasting the hint of musk that he had left on her. He sucked her tongue into his mouth, stroking it as she had just done to his body, until she was nearly wailing with need, squirming fitfully under him.

Zeldris released her mouth and sat back, reaching to open her legs. But Gelda surprised him again and she surged upwards, wrapping her arms around his neck and biting his lip. His hands went to her hips, squeezing the soft flesh there; and when she slid her hands to his shoulders and pressed against him, he found himself laying back, Gelda climbing onto his lap.

Her hand gripped him, and Zeldris let out a hiss. The other pressed onto his bare chest, and then, finally, the head of him pressed inside her opening, slipping in between her damp flesh. "Gelda," he rasped, his hands wrapping around her waist, sliding up her ribcage to settle under her breasts. She did not answer, instead sinking herself slowly down, her mouth open in a silent moan as she adjusted around him.

Zeldris thrust his hips upwards suddenly, burying himself completely, and Gelda faltered forward a bit. He could feel his body swelling—how was it possible he was actually getting _harder?_ —and her thighs opened a bit more as she settled gently on top of him. She fit on top of him perfectly. She was made only for him. He would have her, and he would be her last.

"Open your eyes," he barked, and she immediately obeyed. "You are mine," he ground out, slowly settling back into the mattress. "Now please me."

She gave a tight, wet gasp that made his skin flare; and then she was moving, riding him hard and fast. He watched her body, so incredibly beautiful as she moved, her head back, neck straining, hair cascading over her shoulders. Her breasts moved enticingly as she rocked up and down, and Zeldris moved his hands to roam over them, unable to stop himself from squeezing the offered flesh. Gelda gasped over and over again, the sound giving way to cries, and in moments he was thrusting upwards, meeting her movements as he slammed into her over and over.

Then she was screaming, the top half of her body tilting forward, and he could feel a sudden flush of heat and fluids as her body exploded. She tightened around him, the pulsing vibrations causing him to cry out as well. With a few more thrusts Zeldris came forcefully, filling her completely with his body, emptying deep inside her.

Zeldris watched as Gelda shook. Her head fell forward, her hands tightly clenched against his chest. She dug her nails into him as she tried to steady herself, and as Zeldris caught his breath he reached for her. The princess went limp in his hands, so he slid his body from her with a small wince and deposited her in the bed.

Gelda moaned, and to his shock she rubbed her thighs together. Whether it was soreness from the intensity of their joining or a newly awakening need he could not tell. The sight of her body flushed from exertion, her thighs slick, her nipples _still_ hard and straining, was enough to make him want her again. But at the same time, something told him to wait, to take time to regroup. It would be detrimental to give in to his desires now that she was finally becoming compliant. Zeldris needed to build on this, and remind her that what had happened between them was on _his_ terms, because of _his_ say so.

Once he felt as though he had the strength he was up, pulling on his clothes and grabbing the long scarf he had tied her with many nights before. This time, however, he did not put her on the floor at his feet; this time, he tied her wrists above her, to the head of the bed. Gelda shook herself from her daze and murmured, "Zeldris?"

Hearing his name again was almost his undoing. Quickly, he finished the knots and turned without answering. From the corner of his eye he saw her twisting on the bed, testing the cord; then she cried out as he opened the bedroom door, leaving her alone to sleep in her bed for the first time since he had arrived in Edinburgh. He headed to his own room, which had gone untouched until now, to sleep alone.


	6. Freely Given

**Chapter 6: Freely Given**

Gelda woke the next morning, stiff from sleeping so awkwardly. She held her breath as she tried to stretch, her wrists and shoulders sore from the tension of the bonds. After finally reaching orgasm after so many days and nights of waiting, her body had succumbed to sleep on its own. It was an incredibly deep sleep, too; it was obviously well into morning based on the light coming in through the window, but not even the noises of the castle had woken her.

Zeldris had not slept in her bed, and no servants had come to see to her or bring her food. Did anyone even know she was there? Gelda struggled a bit against the scarf tying her to the bed. Suddenly she was glad no one had come; finding her there, naked and tied to the bed, her body covered in the evidence of his mouth and hands on her, even his scent still clinging to her—it would have been the ultimate humiliation. Zeldris had always untied her and allowed her to dress before she had to face the others in the castle. Even though she was sure they all had their suspicions about what she and the demon were doing in her bed every night, at least she had that one, small dignity allowed to her.

Frustrated, Gelda flopped back on the bed. She closed her eyes and thought about Zeldris on top of her, his hands on her, his fingers inside of her. With a flush of heat her body instantly responded, and she cursed herself as her skin warmed and her center became wet. Instinctively she pressed her thighs together, but the ache was already there, pulsing slowly between her legs.

Damn that demon. He did this, he had made her this way. He had teased her mercilessly until she had no choice but to give in to him. Gelda clung to this idea, even though deep down, she knew it wasn't entirely truthful. She had wanted it, and wanted _him_ , outside of the release that her tortured body craved. She could have found a way to bring herself some relief; she could have defied him if she wanted to badly enough.

But Gelda found that she didn't _want_ to defy him, not really, not anymore. Living under his rule was humiliating, and she still resented him for destroying her home, for killing her father in such a brutal fashion. She was still mortified by the game in the throne room, and the way he had watched her being used like she was nothing. Yet, other than that first day, Zeldris had not been unnecessarily cruel to her. He had teased her, yes; he had nearly driven her mad from her desire for him. And it was a desire for _him_ , there was no mistake in that. A desire for him, not just for release.

She had fooled herself into believing she had no choices, when in fact, somewhere along the way she had chosen to live under him.

Gelda gave a little scream in frustration. As her desire was growing each day, so was her contempt for him. The more she wished to give in to him, the more she felt that she _had_ to fight back. It was exhausting and confusing, and now even more complicated that he had finally taken her in the way she had been craving for days and days. She wanted more of him just as much as she wanted him gone, forever.

The princess pulled her arm to the side, trying to brush away the tears of humiliation that were forming in the corner of her eye, when suddenly her wrist came free. With a yelp of surprise, she stared at her hand for a long moment. Then she spun on the bed, trying to make quick work of the remaining knots that bound her other wrist.

But untying them one-handed proved impossible. They were too connected, and her struggles that morning had made everything tighter. Her eyes were blurry with tears as she tried in vain to get even one knot pulled, but her movements only made things worse.

Quickly she surveyed the room. The dagger she had used was still in its spot where she had dropped it on the floor, well out of reach. Nothing else was nearby, not a hair pin or a needle or even a piece of glass to use.

With another cry of frustration, Gelda laid back on her pillows. Zeldris would probably be angry when he arrived and saw her partially free, but it could not be helped. Besides, why should she care? The part of her that wanted to stand up to him warred terribly with the part that wanted to please him, and she stared at the ceiling, wondering what she should do.

As she thought about him, the ache between her legs grew stronger. Every time she imagined hurting him, running him through with a knife or slicing his throat, it was followed by the memory of his hands on her, his tongue inside of her mouth, his body inside of hers. Gelda gave a low moan, not even realizing she was squirming on the bed, when suddenly a thought struck: there was one way she could still defy him, even in this state.

Drawing in a shaky breath, Gelda spread her legs, her muscles twitching in anticipation. She slid her free hand between her thighs, closing her eyes as she brushed her fingertips along her body. It was already scorching hot, already damp with her desire, and Gelda bit her lower lip as she teased herself, testing where she wanted a caress, where she wanted pressure. It wasn't long before her hand was moving expertly against her body, and she relaxed against the mattress, rocking her hips up and down to meet her own ministrations.

For several minutes, Gelda lost herself to her own pleasure. She easily imagined Zeldris there, his fingers stroking her body, his eyes on her, his mouth open as he panted against her. A jolt of pleasure shot through her core as she wondered what it would feel like for his mouth to travel there, to kiss her _there_ , and her fingers slipped inside of her. Gelda moaned, louder this time, and without any shame she moved her body wantonly, steadily bringing herself to the height she craved. "Zeldris," she groaned, arching her back a bit, her chin tilting up.

"Yes?"

She jumped at the word, her entire body going cold. Her eyes flew open and darted to the side, and her nightmare was realized: there he stood, watching her, his eyes filled with ridicule and irritation and an unmistakable lust. Gelda's breath caught as her eyes traveled down to take in the erection pressing tightly against his pants. But unlike her, who had blushed a deep shade of pink at being so exposed, Zeldris showed no signs of shame, no indication that he had _not_ been watching her.

"Please, don't stop on my account," he chuckled, his voice dark. Gelda was frozen under his gaze, unsure of what to do, her body nearly pulsating with need, practically crying out for her to continue. Yet his eyes kept her pinned, like an animal trapped by its prey.

"I— I—" Gelda's breath hitched, wondering what to do, what to say, how she would survive this new humiliation.

Zeldris moved towards her, and Gelda shrunk back a bit. He grabbed her free wrist and pulled her hand away from her body, smoothing his thumb over her wet hand. "I came to see you, my Gelda, yet you started without me?" She shook her head, her heart thudding in her chest, and then gave a soft moan as his tongue slid along her fingers. Zeldris hummed appreciatively before climbing onto the bed, pushing her legs open unhurriedly as he pressed her arm up.

"I don't know how you got out of that knot," he chided her, "but if I was you, I would reach up and grab hold, and not let go. Unless you _want_ to see what will happen if you do."

Obediently, Gelda grabbed the scarf that tied her other hand. For a moment she cursed herself, wanting to refuse. Why didn't she push him away, slap him, claw at him? Now, she knew for sure, it was pointless to turn away from him, to resist him. She wanted this, she wanted _him_ , too badly.

Zeldris' mouth moved in the valley between her breasts, kissing her wetly down her chest and trailing over her stomach. She held on tightly as instructed, peering down at him moving along her body. "Don't say a word," he told her as he kissed her navel. His eyes looked up and connected with her. "Not a sound. Do you understand?"

Gelda nodded. A ghost of a smile passed over his lips before he kissed her again. His mouth moved lower, lower, and Gelda bit her lip to keep herself quiet. Then, it was finally happening: his lips brushed her body, and she felt his tongue drag slowly, deliciously, along her slit.

"Mmmmm," he murmured against her, the vibrations sending a jolt through her body. She could not help the gasp that escaped her, and Gelda clamped her mouth shut as she felt his tongue begin to lap against her. It was the most exquisite sensation, his wet tongue flat and rough against her own damp, smooth skin. Her hips rose on their own accord, trying to press into his mouth, offering her body to him.

Zeldris laughed against her, but Gelda did not care. He began to kiss her body slowly, his tongue dipping in and out of her opening. Her breathing picked up, bursts of stars appearing behind her closed eyes as the pleasure shot through her with each stroke. She was close, so incredibly close, and she tensed, knowing he was going to stop, knowing that he would leave her in this state.

However, he did not. When she tensed, he used his hands to press her legs open, and then licked her with steady, long stokes. Her passion built rapidly, and before Gelda even realized it, she crashed over the edge, her back lifting off of the bed as pulse after pulse rocked through her. Her hands strained as they clutched the scarf, and her hips moved up and down, meeting his mouth to draw out her pleasure.

Finally spent, Gelda relaxed into the mattress. She heaved a shuddering sigh, her legs slipping down the bed; but then she froze. Zeldris did not move away from her; in fact, he continued to kiss her body languidly, as if he did not realize she was finished. For a moment, she panicked, wondering if he did not know— _how_ could he not know? Her entire body had flared with her climax, her limbs had trembled uncontrollably with the force. Yet, here he was, slowly licking her, her body rapidly becoming sensitive under his attention.

When his tongue found the sensitive flesh under her hood, Gelda jumped against him. It was too good, _too much_ , and she needed him to stop _now_. But she was not permitted to speak, not even to make a sound. Gelda squirmed, trying to pull away, but Zeldris grabbed her hips to hold her steady. His mouth moved downwards, thankfully, but then his tongue was inside her again, stroking her aching walls with a rhythm that was sweet and agonizing.

She trembled as she prayed for him to stop. This isn't what she wanted when she had fantasized about him between her legs; this was too much.

Zeldris trailed his mouth upwards again, and Gelda's mind spun with the anticipation. Her breath was coming in short, quick gasps, but when he wrapped his lips around her clit again, she could take no more. "No!" she cried out, jerking away from his mouth. "Please, no more!"

"Gelda," he growled against her, but she only sobbed, "Please, please stop!"

She trembled as he leaned up on his arms, scowling up at her between her legs. "First you take the bindings off your wrist. Then you speak when I told you to be quiet. And now you are going to refuse me, as well?"

"Zeldris," she whispered, "Zeldris, please. Please."

"No," he answered, and the word shook her. He leaned back down and dragged his tongue along her slit again, slow, agonizing. "You belong to me now. You will give me what I want, and what I want is for you to come."

Gelda gasped, her breath turning into a moan as his mouth returned to her. He pleasured her again, his mouth and tongue relentless. Gelda twisted in his hands, trying to draw away and press closer all at the same time. Once more, he had her in knots, wanting him just as desperately as she wanted him away from her. There was no way she could orgasm again, not after as hard as the last one was; but somehow, impossibly, her body responded on his own, and the uncomfortable twinges between her legs melted into throbs of pleasure as he tasted her over and over and over again.

Her blood pounded as she felt her peak coming closer. Finally, she could give him what he wanted, and then he would be satisfied. With this thought she began grinding against him, pushing her hips up so that his tongue went deeper, his lips pressed harder against where she needed it most. Zeldris was happy to oblige, and wrapped an arm around her thigh so he could dust his fingers at the top of her slit. He teased her body, pushing her towards release, until she was again panting and shaking and pulsating underneath him. It was fast, over almost as soon as it had begun, but more intense than the last one.

As this orgasm subsided, she went limp again, her eyes closing in relief as he moved away. His lips on her stomach barely registered through her haze, and it wasn't until his mouth wrapped around one of her breasts that she sank back into reality. Her entire body tingled, her nerves on edge from overuse, and the rough way that he suckled her caused a new, throbbing agony to ignite.

Gelda tried to close her legs and found that his body lay between them. "Do you want me again, Gelda?" he laughed against her flesh, making her shudder. There was no way he could do this, no way she could survive another. But then, to her horror, he knelt up on the bed, and she watched with widening eyes as he opened his pants and his erection came into view.

"Getting excited already?" he laughed. Her eyes flew from where his hand slowly stroked himself, to his face, which was smiling down at her with a twisted humor. "Good thing. You didn't expect to put on such a beautiful show and not fulfill your role, did you?"

Unable to think, Gelda pressed her face into her forearm. He was going to use her _again_ , and she thought her body would shatter with the overload of pleasure. "Yes, Gelda," he murmured. "Submit to me. It will be much easier if you do."

Gelda bit the inside of her arm to keep from crying out. Her body _was_ responding, and she could feel herself getting wet and hot _again_ , just from his words. How was he doing this? How could he have such power over her?

Because she allowed it, she realized. She had given herself to him willingly. She wanted this.

There was a pressure against her mound, and Gelda risked a look down. Zeldris held his erection in his hand, and was rubbing the head, already flushed and covered in fluids, against her. He teased her slowly before sliding down a bit, dipping just inside her folds. "So wet already," he observed. "You want this. You want to come again."

"Yes," she whispered. He grinned at her then, and even though there was danger behind it, and an unspoken threat, she also saw his own desire there. All at once she wanted him, wanted to please him.

"Your body is mine, Gelda." Up and down the length of her, he teased her with the tip of him, sending little shockwaves through her body. "Now you are going to give me another orgasm, or I will take it from you. And if I am forced to take what I want, it will hurt. Do you understand?"

She nodded, suddenly frightened, but the fear melted away as he slowly slid his body inside. Zeldris leaned over her, planting a hand on either side of her, and pushed his hips into hers until he was completely sheathed inside of her body. His eyes never left hers, and Gelda found she could only stare back, her hips squirming just a bit as her body, still very sensitive, adjusted to the length of him.

"Put your arm around me," he commanded, and she immediately let go of the scarf and wrapped her arm tightly around his shoulders. Then he began to move, pumping in and out, and she clutched him tightly to steady herself. Her fingers dug into the back of his neck, making him hiss, and he slammed into her. Gelda pulled her legs back, her thighs pressed tightly against his sides, giving him her body, wanting him to use her.

Again and again he filled her, and Gelda felt as though she would split in half. It didn't hurt, not exactly, but the relentless way he drove into her caused an exquisite ache to match the growing need. Suddenly, without warning, he pulled out of her, crashing his mouth down over hers at the same time. She gasped, opening her lips eagerly for his greedy tongue, and he swiped inside of her mouth over and over. The kiss left her panting and sharpened the empty feeling inside of her now that he had left her body.

Then Gelda felt his hand between her legs, and he was palming her sex, dragging his fingers up and down her center. She groaned into his mouth as his hand moved with fast, jerking movements. Her orgasm came roaring back after stuttering when he had pulled out of her; his mouth never stopped moving over hers, biting and sucking and leaving her breathless.

His hand paused, pressing against her heat for a long moment, before Zeldris dragged a single finger along her slit. He paused at the top, pressing against her most sensitive spot. Gelda could barely breathe, trying to kiss him back as she trembled in anticipation, when finally, _finally_ , he scraped the tip of his finger against her: once, twice, three times.

Gelda's entire body seized, her mouth pulling away from his as she threw her head back, her body bowing up and off of the bed as she braced herself with the arm wrapped around his shoulders. His finger pressed in slow circles against her, drawing out her orgasm, and Gelda could not cry out, or scream, or even whimper. Then it was over, and he was moving off of her, her body finally free from his touch, even as her core clenched where his length had been, _should_ have been.

There was a moment of silence, and through the sound of her heart beating, Gelda looked up at Zeldris. He was kneeling over her, looking down, his face unreadable. She registered that he was still fully clothed, and that made everything worse somehow: now she felt truly vulnerable and exposed.

His eyes left hers to travel the length of her body, and then he spoke. "Again."

The word sent a tremor through her. "Zeldris," she whimpered, "please, please—"

But he was moving already, yanking on the scarf until it snapped, his other hand grabbing her hip and squeezing. "Zeldris!" she yelped, pressing both hands on his chest, and he looked down at her with narrow eyes.

"Give me what I want," he growled at her, and then he slapped one breast, then the other. The sound of his hand smacking her jolted her more than anything, the slap not hurting anything more than her pride. To her mortification her nipples hardened, and he reached down to pinch one painfully.

"Again, Gelda," he said. Her mind whirled, wondering what he wanted her to do, panic beginning to bleed into her thoughts. It couldn't be _that_ , he couldn't want to see her undone _again_. She couldn't do it, it was _impossible_ —

Gelda found herself roughly turned over, Zeldris' hands pulling her thighs apart as he yanked her hips upwards. Her body was spread in an absolutely lewd display, and she instinctively arched her back, presenting herself shamelessly. One of his hands pressed between her shoulders, pushing the front of her into the bed, and the other smacked her backside, one, two, three, four times. Like the slaps to her breasts, these did not hurt, but only enforced the reality that she was unable to fight back, that he was in complete control of her body.

Then he smacked her again, the blow landing between her legs, and she cried out even as she could feel wetness slipping out of her body. Her core positively burned, twitching as she knew what was to come. Her hands clenched into the bedsheets, waiting, _wanting_ , knowing she would do whatever he wants. Gelda tried not to think about how she must look at that moment, the proud princess turned into nothing but a body to be used. But that no longer mattered, and the knowledge was both freeing and devastating.

"One finger," Zeldris snapped out as he guided his length along the seam of her body. "One finger is all I needed to control you. Never forget that." Then he pressed inside, the angle overwhelming, and Gelda felt as though she would collapse from the pleasure. "Now give me another one."

He moved again, in and out of her, and Gelda did not fight. In this position, he stretched her deliciously, punishingly, and Gelda loved it. She gave herself over to him, the fight gone. And as the head of him battered against a spot inside her she did not even know existed, a new orgasm built, this one deep within her and wholly different from the last ones he had taken from her. Gelda welcomed it, groaning as he took her, knowing Zeldris had won.


	7. The Turning Tide

**Chapter 7: The Turning Tide**

Zeldris sank back into the large armchair, closing his eyes and sighing. One hand gripped the arm of the chair, and the other slid through the wavy locks of the beautiful woman between his legs. Her mouth was wrapped tightly around him as she moved up and down, sucking his growing length with unbridled enthusiasm.

Days had melted into weeks, which had seemed to fly by as Zeldris settled into his role as king of Edinburgh. Every day there were decisions to make, generals to meet with, judgments to pass. Many of his own loyal men had taken up positions within Edinburgh, and there was a strange, unspoken agreement between the clans… much like the one between the king and the princess.

Gelda sat by his side through all of it. She was also settling into her new role, the princess surely having been training her entire life to be at the side of a ruler. It pleased him that her presence seemed to put the vampires at ease as they came before him. She was also proving to be a valuable tool as he ruled Edinburgh. Her knowledge of the powerful vampires, their desires and their allegiances, gave him an edge as he dealt with them. It even seemed as though she wanted him to succeed, and the thought was thrilling to him, even though he could not understand it. Why should he care if she supported his claim, or not? It's not as if she had a choice.

But she _did_ , and it pleased him greatly. Her beauty and poise and air of authority only complimented his ability to rule. Unlike the other females he had encountered both here and in the demon realm, Gelda never gave into petty jealousies or played games for power. It was as if she was above such things, and Zeldris actually admired that more than he would ever admit. She was similar to him in that way, having never cared for the political games that others would play among each other. Deception was beneath him.

During the days she was beside him, a symbol of his authority over the vampires. But at night… Zeldris sighed to himself and pressed his hips forward. At night Gelda would submit herself to him over and over, giving him all he wanted and more. She was, in fact, becoming all he had ever wanted. The mix of innocence and desire, the way she matched his passion even in her submission, was becoming an addicting combination. It was amazing to him that no matter what he took from her at night, when she returned to his side the next day, she was back to the calm, polite, assertive princess.

He went to her nearly every night, only keeping himself away when the desire for her became _too_ overwhelming. It wouldn't do for him to lose himself in her. Gelda needed to be kept in her place.

But Zeldris would find himself thinking about her, even daydreaming about her curves and her mouth and the sounds she made as he filled her body. The nights he would come to her room she would welcome him, following his lead. He even found her soothing, and had actually taken to sleeping in her bed on occasion instead of leaving for his own room. Zeldris would sink into sleep with her arms around him, stroking his skin with light fingertips, as he pressed her tightly against him and breathed in her scent.

His desire for Gelda grew every day, and he felt the danger in his expanding feelings for her. He craved not only her submissive sighs, but the unexpected moments when she would smile his way. He found that the sound of her laughter, or the gentle way she spoke, was just as addicting as her cries of passion. As much as he tried to disconnect himself from her, by focusing on his duties or turning to others to satisfy his needs, Zeldris always found himself eventually seeking her out in the end.

The mouth around him moved away, the sudden loss pulling himself from his thoughts. He frowned and opened his eyes, only to feel a soft body pressing against him, sliding into his lap. Aggressive lips slid along the side of his neck and bit his earlobe, making him jerk back. "Your Grace," her voice moaned, hips rocking and hands roaming his chest.

Dark hair fell into his vision as the vampire climbed on top of him, and his hands gripped her hips tightly. This one was so unlike his Gelda—her hands and mouth frantic on him, her squeals too affected to be genuine—that he actually turned his face away. But she was beautiful, her body an absolute fantasy come to life, and as she rocked her body against him he responded with a grunt. Taking this as some kind of encouragement, she sealed her mouth on his neck, pulling one of his hands up and squeezing it around her breast.

"Please, Your Grace," she moaned. It was a little too loud, a little too forceful, and Zeldris rubbed his palm up and down her breast to experiment. She squirmed enticingly, her hands moving to hike up the bottom of the provocative dress she wore so she could grind against him. "I can please you," she whispered harshly, nipping the side of his neck, her tongue trailing hotly along the shell of his ear. "I want to belong to you."

Her aggression suddenly annoyed him, and Zeldris grit his teeth. He should be enjoying this eager, tantalizing girl on his lap, should be taking her offered body with no hesitation, should be using her as she wanted for his own pleasure. But he found her vulgar, and her insincere moans grated on his nerves. With one movement he pushed her off of his lap and stood, looking down at her with disdain.

The girl blinked up at him, her mouth hanging open for a second; then, she pulled the top of her dress down, exposing her chest, and slid her hands up his leg. "Your Grace?" she asked questioningly, kneeling up to press her body against him.

"Get out," he said, his tone bored and dismissive. She opened her mouth to protest, but then he glared at her, and in a moment the girl was hurrying out of the room, pulling her clothing back around her.

Zeldris walked across the room, pouring himself a large glass of wine. He sipped the heavy liquid as he breathed in and out slowly, staring at nothing. All he wanted in that moment was Gelda. He wanted to erase the hands and mouth of that girl with her. That was the _last_ time he'd take another to his bed.

Snorting, he drained his cup. He didn't even make it to the bed this time.

Tossing the glass against the wall in frustration, he turned and stalked out of his room. Why deny himself, when he knew it was pointless? Yet when he reached the door to her room, he hesitated as he reached for the handle. It was late, much later than when he normally came to her; in fact, he would have been and gone by this time. Would Gelda even be awake?

 _What does that matter?_ Annoyed with himself, Zeldris pushed open the door.

The room was dark, and quiet, and as his eyes adjusted he could see Gelda's still, sleeping form on the bed. Quietly he walked around the room, silently removing his clothing. When he was close enough, he paused to take in the sight of her resting so peacefully. Her blonde hair was spread on the pillow, her face turned, her mouth opened slightly. One arm rested delicately across her stomach, the other curled near her head. Zeldris dragged his eyes down the curves of her form under the thin blanket. Her chest rose and fell with a slow, steady rhythm.

Gelda looked absolutely beautiful, and she was _his_. How could he have ever even looked at another? As he climbed into the bed, careful not to wake her just yet, there was an unfamiliar tightness in his chest. Gelda was like a drug, an obsession he did not care to shed anymore. Already his pulse was racing, his muscles tensing in anticipation of feeling her pressed against him, of seeing her eyes on him, only him.

Zeldris slid under the blanket, wrapping his arms around her. He wanted to wake her roughly, biting her shoulder or her breast, wanted to hear her gasp his name as he pressed her into the bed. But he hesitated as he drank in her skin in the moonlight. Gently he pressed his lips to the curve of her neck, the tip of her earlobe, her cheekbone. He breathed in her hair and slid his hands along her back. Gelda stirred, a sigh escaping her mouth, and Zeldris felt the tightening in his chest again. He dragged his hands down her shoulders, pulling down the straps of the gown she wore, his eyes focused on her face.

No longer did he want to hurry, his desire for her slowly burning inside of him. With her chest exposed, he leaned down and kissed along her collarbone. Then Zeldris trailed his lips along the curve of one breast, slowly teasing her skin, dipping between them before continuing across her chest. Gelda shifted, stretching her back a bit, unknowingly arching against his mouth, and Zeldris instantly became hard.

His fingers itched, and he fought the urge to tear the gown in half and grab up her body in his hands. Instead, he kissed her shoulder, leaving a wet trail along her neck. He smiled as her eyelids fluttered when he kissed her jaw, and then he tilted his head and pressed his mouth against hers.

For a long moment he lay there, frozen against her, taking in the softness of her lips as his hands pressed against her lower back. Then Gelda took a deep breath, her mouth opening under his, and Zeldris quickly swept his tongue into her mouth.

Gelda gave a low moan, and to his delight he felt her hands on his biceps, her fingers curling as he kissed her slowly. He drank from her mouth, tasting her again and again, his kiss slow and deep, without any of his usual teasing or roughness.

Finally he pulled away, his length hard and twitching against her thigh. She opened her eyes and looked at him sleepily, but her expression was pleased, if not surprised. "Zeldris," she whispered, and his name sent a shiver up his spine. Quickly he kissed her again, sealing his mouth tightly on hers. He sucked on her lips as he rolled on top of her, and when Gelda spread her legs to let him settle against her he groaned into her mouth.

Her thin arms went around his neck, her legs curling around his thighs. Gelda slid her fingers into his hair, not pulling or grabbing him, but stroking his scalp lightly. The sensation of her holding him this way was more seductive than anything he had ever experienced. Zeldris rocked his hips against her, rubbing his hard length against her thigh, and when Gelda sighed, the sound sent a bolt of electricity through him. She was responding to him the way she always did, but somehow this was different. Gelda had learned just as much about his body as he had learned about hers: she knew how to please him, how to stir his desire, how to bring him to his finish. This, however, was so much more than that; more than the relentless rush of passion or the fierce way he would join their bodies together. The feeling he had with her, tonight, was both familiar and surprising. It felt natural, right, the way it was meant to be.

Zeldris knelt up, slowly pulling the gown the rest of the way from her body. Gelda lifted her hips willingly, giving him a soft but sleepy smile as she looked up at him. She was positively captivating like this, her body relaxed and open to him, her expression curious but peaceful. He slid his hands along the outsides of her thighs, moving behind to cup her backside, and Gelda raised her arms, spreading her legs wider for him to draw closer. The thought occurred to him that she had never been so breathtaking. Her body had never looked so stunning. He had never felt so overwhelmed.

He dug his fingers into her flesh, causing Gelda to give a nearly inaudible gasp; then, he relaxed his grip. Suddenly he didn't want to take his pleasure from her; he wanted to give.

Covering her body with his, he kissed her again, slow but passionately, and Gelda responded with her own. Her arms went around him again, her hands slid through his hair, over his back, trailed along his shoulders. Zeldris pressed her legs around him, and then slowly he entered her, bracing himself on the mattress as her body opened for him. When he had filled her, he lay there unmoving, just feeling her wet heat surrounding him as he kissed her again and again.

Gelda gasped his name, and the sound spurred him to move. He slid his body in and out gently, his passion unhurried, wanting to feel every movement of her body, every twitch of her muscles and touch of her fingertips, every brush of her lips, every breath on his skin. And she moved with him, angling her body the way he liked, matching his strokes with her own thrusting hips. Together their passion built in an undeniable and incredible momentum, and Zeldris knew she was not only made for him, but they were made for each other.

They reached their climax at the same time, and Gelda clung to him desperately as she shook in his arms. Zeldris pressed his forehead on hers as he emptied himself inside of her, holding her tightly, every muscle tense and attuned to the way her body clenched around his. Afterwards he kissed her slowly as he rocked his hips, drawing out their passion, unwilling for it to be over.

He laid on his back as Gelda curled around him, her skin warm against his. Her arms held him close as her face nestled against the side of his neck, and Zeldris rubbed his hand up and down her back. He could feel her quickly falling asleep, although he was suddenly exhausted, his entire body deeply relaxed, there was a nagging feeling in his mind that left him uneasy.

"Gelda?" he whispered.

"Hmm?" she sighed against him.

Zeldris swallowed, debating what to say. For the first time in his life, he felt… nervous. "Gelda," he whispered again. "I want you to be my queen."

But she did not answer, already asleep. He slid a hand into her hair, curling the ends around his fingers. His heart thudded in his chest, half in disappointment, and half in relief.


	8. The Gift

**Chapter 8: The Gift**

Gelda was walking down a silent hallway when she felt a pair of strong hands grip her waist. She knew immediately who it was, and her breathing caught as the hands slid around to her stomach, the fingers spreading as the palms roamed her shape, pulling her back against a hard chest.

Smiling, she tilted her head to the side, feeling lips grazing her skin. Her hands covered his before she felt herself being half-carried, half-dragged along the hallway, finally pressed inside a little alcove under a window. Gelda was turned so her back was against the stone wall, and then Zeldris covered her mouth with his, his arms sliding around her waist to hold her tightly. She gripped his arms and opened her mouth so he could kiss her as he pleased.

When he finally let her mouth go, she sighed and opened her eyes. "Zeldris," she whispered, and then looked around. "Someone could see us."

"I'm the king," he said in a low, dark tone. "Do you think I care what anyone sees?"

Gelda bit her lip, her eyes darting down. He was right, of course. But a stolen kiss in a dark corner of the hallway? If they were children, it would be a thrilling game; but he was the king, and she was his princess.

No one spoke openly about their relationship, partly because it was not proper, but mostly, she was sure, because they feared him. But there was no doubt that everyone, from the servants to the powerful lords, knew that he came to her room each night. Only a fool could not guess what they had been doing in the more than five months since Zeldris had descended on Edinburgh.

In those first days and weeks, the princess had lived in a state of fear and confusion, her heart twisted as the hate and disgust for Zeldris warred with her passion and desire for him. He had frightened her, humiliated her, make her feel as though she were perched on the edge of a knife.

However, as the weeks went on, things had… changed. Zeldris had kept her bound to him with a tight coil of passion and fear, and Gelda had obeyed him without question once she had realized there was no choice. But at some point along the way, she gave herself to him. She no longer obeyed out of fear, but a desire to please; she aided him because she chose to, not because she had to. In doing so he began to loosen the hold he had on her, and Gelda found herself in a role by his side. It was a role she had always known she would have, being a princess. If not Zeldris, it would have been another king.

During the days she fulfilled her duty as princess, and at night she was rewarded with a passion she did not even know could exist. Zeldris had used her body against her in the beginning, demanding and taking what he wanted so she would obey without question. Yet over the weeks he began to give as much as he took. She could see his desire for her was burning just as intensely as hers did for him. Gelda could see it even now, in his eyes, as he gazed down at her. They slid over her form for a moment before he pulled one hand away from her waist and curled his fingers in her hair.

"You wore this differently," he noted.

Gelda nodded, smiling, pleased that he had noticed. When he had arrived the night before, she was already nearly ready for bed, and her hair had hung down her shoulders in long layers, reaching nearly to her waist. Usually she wore her hair up in an intricately pinned style that was common for the vampires in court. But Zeldris had remarked that he preferred her hair down, and so she had worn it simply that day. It had caused many strange looks from the other vampires, but she did not care.

She watched his hand as he twirled a lock of her hair in his fingers. Zeldris was different since he had first used her body, those first days that were a haze of humiliation and need. His touch went from aggressive to impassioned, his words from biting and demanding to lustful. Gelda had heard whispers of others in the king's bed, which had made her heart twist in her chest; eventually those whispers ceased, replaced by murmurs of the king's growing affection for her. And there _were_ signs, although Gelda would not allow herself to believe them: softer touches, a murmured compliment, a conversation she realized later had no threats or demands.

Their relationship had changed before she even noticed it, and Gelda wished she could ask him what he wanted from her. It was obvious he did not want her to be his queen; he made no indication that he wanted her for more than what she could give him now. And as much as she wondered what he wanted from her, she also was confused about her _own_ desires. He was handsome, and rough, and unafraid of their passion or of dragging her under his desire. Under any other circumstance, Gelda would have been enraptured by someone such as he in her life. Did she want him? Did she want to be his queen? If not Zeldris, then who?

A part of her wondered what would have happened if she did ask. Gelda was scared, however, of the answer. And there was something else too, a part of her she was holding back from him; his inevitable rejection, which she was sure to come, would certainly devastate her. This was all going to end, so why not take her own pleasure when she could? Why not enjoy what he gave her freely, and do the same?

"I have something for you," he said, and Gelda's eyes snapped up to his face. Zeldris took a step back and pulled out a small box, handing it out to her.

Her mind whirled in confusion as she accepted it hesitantly. Zeldris was giving her a gift? She frowned as she brushed her palm over the top of the box, and when she felt him shift a bit she quickly opened it.

There was a necklace inside. It was an absolutely stunning piece of jewelry, white gold covered in diamonds. Gelda gasped when she saw it and quickly looked up at him. "This is for me?"

As if the gift was not astonishing enough, his expression now was… uncomfortable? Her eyes slid back to the necklace, her hands trembling a bit. Gelda was so surprised by this that she could not speak. It was exactly something she would have picked out; how could he have known?

Zeldris started to say something, but Gelda moved forward, silencing him as she pressed her mouth to the corner of his. It was a chaste enough kiss, but she felt him tense up all the same against her, until she pulled back and looked up at him with a small smile. "Thank you," she whispered.

They looked at one another for a long moment, and then Gelda quickly pulled the necklace out, turning around and holding it around her neck. She pulled her hair over her shoulder and felt Zeldris' hands brush her skin as he hooked the clasp. Covering the necklace with one palm, Gelda took a deep breath. She should ask him now, ask him what he wanted from her, ask him if he—

"Wear this tonight," he said brusquely, and then his footsteps drummed as he walked away. Gelda drew quick, short breaths, shaking her head as one hand pressed on her chest, the other on her stomach. She did not understand what happened, what had brought about this sudden act of tenderness… if that was what it even was. It was so difficult to tell what Zeldris would want at any time, and this newest mystery had left her incredibly confused.

Once her breathing was even Gelda continued walking down the hallway, lost in her own thoughts. As she approached her room, two voices snapped her from her musing.

"Did you hear that the princess has started even _dressing_ like those demons? It's outrageous how she can just allow the king to force her to do such humiliating things."

"Perhaps she thinks the king will marry her?"

"What a ridiculous idea. If he wanted to he would have by now. And why should he? He has the throne. He's in her room every night. He can do whatever he wants, and _she_ allows it."

"If I was her, I would never agree to it. He killed her father, after all, and then stripped her in front of her own guard. He's humiliated her and made her the laughingstock of the kingdom. But I suppose he'd never marry her anyway, so it makes no difference."

Their voices grew louder as they approached, so Gelda hurried away and back to her room before she was seen. She sat on her bed, holding her face in her hands, her skin burning. The necklace hung heavily around her neck, and as the sun went down, she waited for Zeldris to arrive.

When he came to her room finally, Gelda did not speak. He grinned at her as she put her arms around him and kissed him, his own hands pressing hard and possessively, but not cruelly, against her. She pulled him towards the bed, and when Zeldris was comfortably stretched out against the pillows, his eyes never left her as she began to undress. One by one, she removed each article of clothing, her heart thudding in her chest. She was suddenly nervous, more nervous than she could remember since they had begun.

Gelda climbed on top of him, straddling his hips to perch on his lap, completely nude except for the necklace. The desire and delight was plain on his face, but she still trembled, leaning in to kiss him and press her body against his. All she wanted was for him to want her back, and Gelda was determined to show him all that he could have, if he would just ask for it.

The necklace was cold against her feverish skin, pressing heavily against her chest as their bodies joined together. She was glad for the way Zeldris pressed his face into her hair as they tumbled into their release, so that he could not see the pain across hers. Afterwards, he removed the necklace from her before gathering her up in his arms as he did each night and cradling her against him. He had been sleeping the entire night with her for weeks, and for the first time since _this_ change she wished he would go. Gelda turned away to lay on her side, the king pressed against her back. She stared at the necklace that lay on the bedside table as she listened to his steady breathing.


	9. Left Unsaid

**Chapter 9: Left Unsaid**

Zeldris hurried towards Gelda's room, trying not to _look_ like he was hurrying. A few servants lingered in the hallway but quickly scurried out of his way. He turned a corner, and then another, feeling his heart beating faster with each step closer.

When he reached her room, he opened the door without knocking. His eyes swept the room briefly until they landed on her, sitting at a small table, sipping from a delicate teacup. Zeldris blew out a relieved breath. When Gelda had not arrived to sit with him through a hearing on the boundaries between two vampires feuding over territory, he had been anxious to know where she was, if she was all right. Gelda had never before missed the opportunity to serve with him in her royal duties.

"Gelda," he said, sharper than he intended. She set her cup down and looked up at him. Her face was poised in the pleasant, noncommittal visage she used for his subjects, but never with him. Even with the mask, however, he could see the exhaustion behind her eyes. "You didn't come today," he said lamely.

"I wasn't feeling myself," she said, just as blandly, her eyes lowering back to her cup.

An uncomfortable silenced stretched in between them, and Zeldris frowned. He could not recall a time that was as awkward between them. He looked around for a clue, and his eyes landed on the necklace he had given her the day before, still sitting on the bedside table where he had placed it last night. "I didn't know vampires could be ill," he answered as he stared at the necklace.

Gelda did not respond. After another awkward moment, he walked around the table until he was standing opposite of her. "Well, what is it?" he demanded.

She hesitated, and then looked up at him. "It's nothing, Your Grace," she assured him, and he frowned. Gelda had never used a formal title with him, not once, and he gripped the back of the empty chair that sat across from her.

"Are you sure?" he said warily, and when she murmured yes, he nodded. Gelda knew better than to deceive him. But still he examined her closely, and despite the tiredness on her face, there didn't seem to be anything else unusual about her. Her skin was pale but flushed with life, her hair shone, her eyes bright on him.

Zeldris sat in the chair and put his elbows on the table. "Gelda, I've decided something." She did not answer him, only raising her eyebrows slightly, and he went on, "I've decided you are to become the queen. My queen."

He didn't know what he had expected her to do: shout, gasp, cry, perhaps fling herself at him. What he did not expect was the heavy silence that blanketed the room after his declaration.

Gelda sat frozen as a statue, staring at him for a long moment. Her face had not the surprise he had thought to see; instead she looked _caught_. Finally she swallowed and answered, her eyes dropping down again, "I cannot be your queen, Your Grace."

"Why not?!" he practically shouted at her. Gelda jumped at the volume, but her eyes remained down. "You dare to refuse me?"

"I—I'm sorry, Your Grace—"

"Stop _calling_ me that!" His hand slammed on the table and he leaned forward. "You _will_ be the queen. You have no choice."

Gelda snapped her eyes up with a gasp. Then she startled him by yelling, "If I have no choice, then I am _not_ a queen! I am only your slave!"

Zeldris growled, his hands balling into tight fists. He wanted to shout at her, shake her, but instead he struggled to keep his temper. "What is wrong with you?" he hissed at her. "Do you think you are _better_ than being queen of Edinburgh?"

He was pleased to see surprise flash across her face. "No, no, I—"

"You were _born_ to be the queen of these wretched vampires! Why won't you—"

"I said, I could not be _your_ queen!" she shouted back at him.

Zeldris reeled back, his jaw dropping open before he could even stop it. "You-you killed my father! You left his b-body on the floor, in fr-front of his own throne!" Tears started to stream down her face, her words coming out as choking sobs. "You tormented me and humiliated me and—and—"

His fingers clenched as he swallowed thickly. It had been months ago, and he knew he had hurt her then. He had _wanted_ to hurt her then. Zeldris turned his head to glance at the necklace laying on the table. She had seemed so happy yesterday, when he had given it to her; she had given herself to him again last night, as she always did. What had happened? Why was she doing this, now, after all this time?

Gelda was shaking so badly she could barely speak. He stood and reached over the table to steady her, but the princess jerked away from his hand. "You said I have no choice," she said, her voice trembling. "So do _not_ call me the queen." She looked at him with cold, accusing eyes. "You told me in the beginning, didn't you, Your Grace? I'm no different than any of your other slaves."

"Don't be ridiculous," he growled at her, his anger burning hot under his skin.

But the princess would not concede. "You've made me a laughingstock," she responded bitterly.

Zeldris frowned. These were not Gelda's words, this was not like her at all. "Who said this to you?" he demanded.

Her back stiffened as she abruptly stood. She turned away, and but he was up to catch her by the elbow and turn her back around. "Have I not taken care of you?" he snapped. "Didn't I give you a gift, just yesterday?"

Gelda tried to jerk away but his grip was tight. "Even a dog will receive a collar from its owner."

"That's what you think that was? A _dog collar_?" His anger was nearly palpable now. A flash of pain went across her face, and he _knew_ then that this was not the reason. "You had no trouble accepting it last night. You've had _no_ objections as you spread yourself to me each night." Gelda gasped, making him smile as she pressed her hands on his chest, as if to ward off his words. "So that _can't_ be the reason! What is it then, Gelda? Another man? I've given up all others for you, and you've been giving yourself—"

"No!" she screamed. "No, Zeldris, I swear I haven't!"

His fingers dug into her arms, and he knew that he could hurt her right now. Hurt her _terribly_. He could snap her neck if he wished. As he fought to keep a lid on his temper, he wondered if this is what she wanted: to see him begging for her, to see him surrender. He remembered that night, weeks ago, when he had held her in the bed and whispered to her that he wanted her. The memory brought an unexpected feeling of shame.

"I don't care _what_ you want," he said menacingly, his voice low with the threat. He could see the hurt in her eyes with his words, and if he was honest, he could feel his own chest twisting, his own heart shouting at him in denial. But he would _not_ be bowed. "You will be the queen. You will be _my_ queen." Her fingers curled against his chest as she again tried to push him away, but Zeldris would not allow it. The need to possess her flared suddenly, hot and overwhelming, and he released one arm to catch the back of her head tightly as his mouth descended on hers. The kiss was punishing, relentless, but that is all he wanted in that moment; he wanted her to feel the pain that she had caused him with her refusal.

Gelda whimpered, a sound he had not heard come from her in many, many weeks, and it caused the back of his neck to go hot with embarrassment. This isn't what he wanted! He didn't want a simpering and obedient Gelda. He wanted _her_ , with her softness and her determination and grace. He wanted her to need him. He wanted her… to love him.

But there was none of that in the kiss. She did not even respond, and simply stood there frozen as he kissed her mouth over and over. There were no tempting sighs, the lovely way she would catch his bottom lip with hers, the enticing feel of her tongue. With a furious noise he pushed her backwards until he had her pressed into the wall, his fingers nearly turning white with the fierceness of his hold. His mouth turned aggressive as Zeldris pulled it away from her unwilling one, and he scraped his teeth along the side of her neck until sinking them in for a bite of her skin.

She made another soft sound, but still did not move, still did not put her arms around him like she always did, still did not sigh his name or arch her body into him. Zeldris shivered with a sudden chill, and he pulled back abruptly. Gelda's head was turned to the side submissively, her eyes closed, and he stared at the angry mark that now lay on her neck.

"Gelda," he whispered, his chest twisting at her subtle trembling. He could tell she was frightened and hurt… why couldn't she see he felt the same? Leaning down, he pressed his lips gently against the mark, giving it a soft kiss. He closed his eyes and sighed. Why couldn't she understand? He thought for sure that she would have wanted this, would have wanted him.

Zeldris realized then that he _was_ bowed. He was ready to surrender. He had been defeated by his desire, and then betrayed by his own heart.

All of a sudden he was tired of the fight. Zeldris loosened his grip on her, just a bit, and pressed against her. His lips skimmed her neck, brushing lightly across her cheek, until he captured her mouth again. This time, he did not try to make her submit; this time, he poured his own acceptance into the kiss. Gelda still did not respond, so he ran his hands along her arms. Then he slid his palms down the front of her dress, caressing her hard, but not roughly, as he continued to kiss her slowly.

Zeldris dragged his hands lower, over her hips and down her thighs, catching the fabric of her dress in his hands. He pulled the bottom hem up, slowly exposing her legs. Her hips shifted slightly, and he pushed the fabric up even further, his mouth now feathering over her jawline as his hands reached the tops of her thighs. Her body was soft and warm against his, and he felt his body grew hard as he tasted her lips. He pushed his hips forward, grinding his hard length against her core, teasing them both.

Finally he heard her breath catch, ever so slightly, and it was all the encouragement he needed. In another moment he was opening the fabric of his pants before catching her legs up with his rough hands. He pressed his hips forward, pinning her to the wall; then he slid inside her, pulling her thighs open and up, his grip on them firm.

"Put your arms around me," he said roughly, as he had done dozens of times before. Gelda obeyed, her arms going lightly around his neck; there they hung limply, not clutching him or clinging to him or sliding over his shoulders. He grit his teeth and began to move, pumping in and out of her body in a steady rhythm. Gelda's eyes were open, staring to the side, her face turned away from his. He started to move faster and pressed his mouth against her cheek, panting against her skin. She felt perfect, as always, her body tight and wet around him.

"Gelda!" he said sharply, and she snapped her face to his. He paused his movements as they looked at one another. Her face was emotionless, but her eyes betrayed her anxiety. Quickly he kissed her, wanting to smooth her trepidation away; yet when he risked a peek to her face, he was shocked to see her eyes also open, dull and listless.

He pulled back, slipping out of her body and letting her legs down from around him. Then he cupped her face and kissed her again, harder and more demanding this time. His heart beat rapidly and his breathing increased as he pressed into her mouth, pulling her tongue into his, trying to get her to return the kiss. Zeldris started unbuttoning her dress, peeling it from her body when it was opened, sliding his hands over her naked form.

Still she did not respond. He weaved his fingers in her hair, massaging her scalp with one hand as she did to him, in the way that he loved. When he tilted her head to kiss her again, deeply, she easily complied; but it wasn't the same, and he grew increasingly frustrated with her lack of _anything_. When kissing her mouth still got him no response, he pulled her head to the side, kissing the curve of her neck before wrapping his mouth around her earlobe. He nipped her flesh, pausing to suck on it gently, and then dragged his tongue along the lines of her ear. Whenever he had done this before, Gelda would be a moaning and shuddering mess against him; however this time, she was indifferent. Instead of moving into him and against him, her muscles were tense and tight.

The frustration grew as he kissed and caressed her, until finally he pulled away, stepping back in anger. Gelda braced herself against the wall. He was pleased to see her skin flushed and that she was trembling—perhaps she was not as disaffected as she was letting on.

Zeldris grabbed her, lifting her off the ground and carrying her to the bed. He pressed her onto her back, kissing her body almost frantically, his mouth going from her neck to her chest, sliding along the curve of her breasts before moving down her stomach. His hands and his mouth knew what to taste and bite and touch to make her body writhe under him, yet she remained infuriatingly, stubbornly still. He could feel her heart pounding and the perspiration that now dotted her skin. Gelda's body was responding, but _she_ was not.

Finally he reached her stomach, kissing a path downwards. With one arm he spread her legs a bit. Gelda did not offer any resistance, but she did not spread open for him eagerly as she had always done. He kissed the top of her mound; then down, down he moved, his lips grazed over the fabric that covered her sex, and he felt her stomach muscles jump as he slipped his tongue along the edge.

No sounds came from Gelda; she did not rock against him or clutch his hair; she did not shift her legs apart to accommodate him. Undeterred, Zeldris continued his attentions through the fabric. When her stubborn wall of silence continued, he pulled the fabric down and away, moaning to taste the heat of her flushed body. Gelda may have been resisting him, but her body could not, and he was mollified a bit to feel her growing wet against his mouth.

The minutes ticked by as he licked her and kissed her, using the intimate details he had learned about her body to bring her pleasure. He wanted to hear her moan and see her twist underneath him, hear his name on her lips instead of that damned _Your Grace_.

Yet no matter what he tried, she would not reward him with a response. Zeldris pressed his face against her thigh, his lungs squeezing in his chest. Her silent wall had defeated him; never had he felt so devastated.

His hands gripped her legs and pushed them wider apart, his fingers digging sharply into her. Turning his head he bit the inside of her thigh, and was rewarded with a small gasp of pain. His hands shook as he held her steady.

His eyes moved up her body and back to her face as he leaned over her. If the only way to get Gelda to respond to him was by hurting her, then that was _her_ choice. Angry now, he pushed her legs up and back, pulling them over his shoulders. Her hands went to his chest to brace herself against him, but he snatched them away, pressing her wrists back on the bed with a painful squeeze. Then he thrust his hips forward, burying himself inside her with one furious movement. Gelda gasped again, her eyes squeezing shut as she bit her lip, and he forced out a bitter laugh.

"This is what you really wanted, isn't it?" he asked, his voice dripping with hostility. Zeldris moved against her, pulling nearly completely out of her before slamming back inside of her. "You want to be used as a slave, don't you?" Grinding his hips against the backs of her thighs, he bent down to bite one of her nipples. Gelda gave a sharp cry that lasted barely a second, and he could feel her try to struggle just a bit in his punishing hold on her wrists.

Over and over again he dragged his length from her body, only to drive himself downwards until his body smacked against hers. She gasped each time, but would not look at him. He grit his teeth as he watched her unchanging expression. How could she not care? How could she not say anything? He had thought that she wanted a life with him, and it shook him how very wrong he had been.

His climax hit suddenly, ripping through him as his body shuddered, and he emptied inside her with long, punishing strokes. Gelda sucked in a sharp breath as he pulled himself from her body, her legs trembling slightly as he released them. She had not reached her own peak, and the irony of their ending mirroring how they began was bitter. Zeldris straightened his clothes before he turned and left, banging the door shut behind him. For the first time in months, he went to his own room to sleep, alone.


	10. The Choice

**Chapter 10: The Choice**

The days to follow stretched on for Gelda in misery. She had not felt so lonely since her father had died, abandoned by everyone she knew to face her new reality. And here she was again, left alone by someone who was supposed to protect her, to try to salvage some piece of her life.

Zeldris had not returned since the night she had turned down his proposal. He did not call for her to come to him or accompany him with the kingdom's business, and when she would present herself every day as her duty, he would ignore her. It was as if he had forgotten she existed, and Gelda supposed it was just as well. She had let herself fall into a ridiculous fantasy that she and Zeldris could be… together. After weeks of his torment, he had been feeling something for her, she _knew_ he was. But his ever-changing mood had confused her, and Gelda never knew what he wanted. She was frustrated and embarrassed, but most of all, afraid that it was all in her mind.

He had left her and forgotten her so easily that she knew now that it _had_ been her imagination. Even after the wonderful gesture of his gift he still made demands on her, _ordering_ her to be his queen! As if a title would change anything. As if a necklace would buy her forgiveness.

It would have been so easy to give in, and Gelda had desperately wanted to. Her heart had been screaming in agony as she refused him, overwhelming her as he had used her body afterwards, just as he always did. Gelda wanted to be at his side, not under him. She was insulted that he would lie to her and call her his queen. She had always thought that deception was beneath them.

Day after day she watched as Zeldris continued ruling Edinburgh, and at night she slept alone. Never once did he come to her room. The loneliness grew sharper then, and she would stare for hours where he used to lay, sometimes holding the necklace against her, tracing her fingers along the jewels.

The worst was to watch the other women in the court try to catch Zeldris' attention. It was obvious to everyone how he ignored her now, and those who were ambitious would maneuver for a position near the king. Most of the time he ignored them, but sometimes he would allow one to slide a hand on his shoulder, or he would lean in to speak quietly, or she would catch him giving an appreciative gaze. Gelda would never want him to know that she was watching, but she was. It pained her terribly to see him teasing one of the girls, never knowing if it was real, or if he was trying to make her jealous. Or even worse: that he was doing these things without thinking of her at all. Once she saw him compliment a young woman on her hair, which had been styled long, they way he liked it. He had reached up to entwine a lock in his fingers, and she felt as though her heart would break into a thousand pieces.

Gelda did her best to avoid Zeldris after that, not that it was difficult. The days ran together, one after another, until she was stopped in the hallway unexpectedly by a page. "The king wishes to see you," the vampire told her, and she trembled as she followed him to Zeldris' study.

She had been in there a dozen times, observing meetings or advising the king. Once, they had found themselves alone, and Zeldris had taken her against the table inside, the thrill of possibly being disturbed heightening their passion. He had smirked at her later, when a delegate had arrived and sat around the same spot she had been writhing and moaning, and the memory brought a blush to her cheeks now just as it had then.

He did not acknowledge her when she entered, busy studying a paper in his hand. The page left them and Gelda stood awkwardly in silence. A minute ticked by as the princess watched for him to say or do anything; finally the anticipation proved too much and she blurted out, "Your Grace wished to see me?"

She could see him visibly stiffen at her question, and Gelda swallowed against the rapid beat of her heart. When he finally looked up at her, his eyes were dark, his expression contemptuous. Her breath caught as he dragged his eyes up and down her form, and Gelda did her best not to flinch or look away when they returned to her face.

Before she could speak, Zeldris snapped at her, "You kept me waiting." Gelda had no response, so he just scoffed at her and went on, "The Vampires of Black Claw are coming tonight. Is there anything I need to know about them?"

"Black Claw?" she murmured in surprise. "They are a powerful family. Almost as much as—" Gelda stopped short, pressing her lips together. Gelda had been about to say, _almost as much as mine_. She glanced away from Zeldris' searching gaze.

"They did not come to give their allegiance when I took the throne," Zeldris said bitingly. "They sent an emissary instead with some vague promises. It was an insult, wasn't it?"

Gelda nodded in answer. "That's what I thought. Well they are coming now, and will be here tonight. I want you to watch them. I want you to find out if they are truly loyal to me before I agree to anything."

"Agree to what?" she asked without thinking. Immediately she regretted it when Zeldris gave her a look that froze her blood. "I need a queen, Gelda, and they have offered their daughter." His mouth twisted for a moment before he turned away. "Perhaps some other will not find the idea of being my queen as objectionable as you."

Hot tears sprung up to her eyes, and Gelda sucked in a deep breath. "I've learned not to trust any vampires for long," Zeldris went on. "These I trust less than any others, and I will not be made a fool." She watched him as she waited for more, wanting nothing more than to run and hide, but frozen on the spot in misery.

She stared at him, wondering what to do, when Zeldris stood and slowly walked over to her. She could tell that he was trying to intimidate her, and inside Gelda was seized with anxiety. Would he be taking her title, casting her out of the castle for good? Was he sending her away? Did he decide she must marry him, no matter her objections? Or did he just want to strip her and use her finally, after their long weeks apart?

Without realizing it she shrank back a bit, trying to control her shaking so she could appear passive and unaffected by his advance. When he was finally just inches from her, the king simply stared at her. Gelda stared back, searching his eyes for a sign of what he wanted, what he was feeling, dreading what she would find; however, it was impossible to tell.

"Turn around," he said, his sudden command making her start. Quickly she turned so her back was facing him, and Gelda squeezed her eyes shut. There was a long pause, the silence thick and heavy between them.

There was a whisper of breath on her neck, making her shiver. She felt Zeldris close the gap between them, but he did not touch her. She trembled in anticipation; then came the feeling of his fingers grazing down her back, tracing over her hips. Gelda glanced to the side, trying to catch a glimpse of what he was doing, if his face was angry or pained or delighted, not knowing which she hoped the most to see.

To her surprise, his lips pressed against the back of her neck. Her hair was pinned up in her old style, having returned to the look after Zeldris had left her. His breath tickled her skin, and then she felt his warm, wet mouth trailing kisses across the slope of her shoulders.

Firm hands gripped her waist, and Gelda felt the demon's body press against hers as he pulled her backwards. Zeldris continued kissing her neck, his teeth scraping against her and sending a delicious shiver through her body. His hands slipped around her, one firm on her hip to keep her in place, the other sliding up her stomach and over one breast, squeezing it gently. A groan escaped her, unable to be helped, and she felt him press his unmistakable length against her hips. Suddenly she felt flushed, heat rising along her neck, as the familiar ache began deep in her core.

Gelda turned her face, looking to catch his roaming mouth with hers. As she tilted her head back, Zeldris moved his mouth up, hovering over hers as her eyes slid closed. Their lips brushed, barely touching; then, he hesitated there, just a hair's breadth away from sealing them together.

"Your Grace?" she whispered.

Immediately the hands were snatched away, the spell over them broken. Gelda bit her lip, cursing herself for speaking, and when she turned around a moment later he had returned the other side of the room, his back facing her. Sadly she looked at him, wishing he would look at her the way he did before.

His attention on her now, his presence and his hands and just being so _close_ brought everything they had shared roaring back, everything that she had tried to push aside and pack away so she wouldn't feel anything. Gelda had only allowed herself to feel the disappointment and anger she held; she had been ignoring the passion and admiration and devotion that had also grown in her heart. She had denied the hurt from his dismissal and the loneliness without his touch and the bitterness from being shut out. She had refused to feel her own broken heart.

Gelda told herself if he just _asked_ her, if he just gave her some indication that he wanted her and not a slave, then she would give herself to him in a heartbeat; but the truth was, if he ordered her to her knees, she would obey without question. Now that she had had a taste of his presence again, she would do anything to have him back, however it was to be.

"You can go," he said casually, waving a hand in dismissal without even looking at her. She choked on a sob as her hand covered her mouth, and the princess turned and fled the room.

The rest of the afternoon Gelda spent bitterly crying, angry at Zeldris for hurting her, but even angrier at herself for making such a terrible choice. When the evening approached she dressed in a fine gown—one that Zeldris had someone make for her, she remembered sadly—and prepared to leave to fulfill the king's request. As she walked by her mirror, she caught sight of herself, remarking the changes in her reflection: she looked a bit paler than normal, and tired, her clothes not fitting as well as they used to fit. Did it even matter now?

With an angry huff she began to yank the pins from her hair, pulling apart the intricate twist, watching her long hair as it fell past her shoulders and down her back. She hadn't worn it down since Zeldris had left her, and suddenly she was filled with absolute revulsion at the sight of herself in the mirror. Gelda hurried to the bedside table and threw open the drawer, finding the dagger inside that she had stolen all those months ago, that she had used to try to kill the king. Sobbing, she pulled a lock of her hair over her shoulder and took the blade to it, slicing it with one swipe.

Gelda looked down at the piece in her hand, tears sliding down her cheeks. She hated herself in that moment, feeling like a coward.

There was a sharp knock on the door and a guard called for her to come, and Gelda quickly wiped her eyes. She stored the dagger and the severed tresses in the drawer, pulling her hair across her shoulder to hide the spot that was cut. Then she hurried out the door and down to the great hall, where the Black Claw vampires were being introduced.

As she approached the place she normally sat, a hand gripped her elbow. "Good of you to join us," Zeldris hissed in her ear, yanking her against him. He steered her away from the dais, to the side of the room apart from the others. Then he turned her so he could look in her face, and she lowered her eyes, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Your Grace, I was—"

"Enough," he snapped at her. Gelda snuck a look at him, and saw his eyes tracing over her. His grip loosened a bit, and she felt his thumb rub against her skin. "Stay here," he whispered, and without another word he released her and walked away, climbing the handful of steps to his position.

Confused, Gelda stood obediently, watching. Zeldris sat in the throne, watching impassively as Ren, the matriarch of the family, presented the king with gifts. She turned and looked around the watching crowd, trying not to be noticed. Servants walked around with trays of drinks, and she was offered a glass of wine. "For the toast, Your Highness," the servant said, and Gelda accepted it with a nod.

The sight of the dark liquid made Gelda's stomach turn. As her eyes swept around the room, she noticed that the other vampires who had glasses were also not drinking. Although vampires did not need food or drink, they often would partake in the habit of eating for enjoyment, particularly since the demons had come and settled in Edinburgh. Wine in particular was a curiosity and enjoyable diversion for the vampires, so she was not surprised to see that the Black Claw had brought a selection as a gift for the king. They were a proud family, who would have had a claim to take the throne if Zeldris had not done away with the king. Gelda had always assumed she'd be married off to one of them when the time came.

But as she looked through the crowd, she noticed something else too: none of the Black Claw clan members had taken a drink. It struck her as odd that they would not be partaking in a toast to their honor. Suddenly something felt terribly, horribly wrong, and she looked down at her glass. As she brought it to her lips, she felt a hand on her arm. "No, Your Grace," the vampire next to her whispered in her ear. She turned and looked at him in confusion, the honorific echoing in her head, but all he did was shake his head, almost imperceptibly.

Her eyes snapped back at Zeldris, who was now standing in front of the throne, taking a glass for himself. And in that moment, she knew: there was something in the wine, something that would kill him and all of the other demons and the vampires who had decided to accept him as king. Knowing what she knew about the powerful vampire family, the poison would kill them in the most agonizing way possible. The Black Claw would know that they could not assault the castle with force, so they would take it through treachery. She watched in terror as the king spoke, her throat tightening as a hundred things churned in her mind.

Now was her choice, Gelda realized: allow Zeldris to drink the wine and die, or speak up. If she stopped him, what would that mean for them? Would she be sealing her fate to this empty life? Did he know? But if Zeldris died, what would happen to her? Would she be free? Could she bear him being gone, knowing she could have stopped it?

Horrified, Gelda's eyes widened as he brought the glass to his mouth. As he began to drink, the image of Zeldris' body on the ground, just like her father's had been, flashed in her mind.

"Zeldris!" she screamed, all eyes turning to her.

Gelda bolted forward, the hand on her arm trying to pull her back; but she shook the vampire off and flew up the steps. When she reached Zeldris she smacked the glass from his hand, which fell to the floor with a smash. Then she grabbed him by the sides of his face and pulled him down into a kiss.

His mouth opened in surprise, as did hers; and then Gelda kissed him, sucking the poisoned drink into her mouth. It burned as it slid down her throat. Rivers of the liquid ran out of her mouth and down her chin, and when Zeldris grabbed her by the arms and pushed her backwards, they were both choking for breath.

"Gelda!" he shouted, his face twisting in angry disbelief; but she could not respond, already feeling the effects of the wine on her system. A sharp pain flared in her chest, and her blood felt as though it was on fire. "The wine," she managed to whisper as her throat closed, and then Gelda was falling, strong arms catching her before she hit the floor.


	11. The Throne of Edinburgh

**Chapter 11: The Throne of Edinburgh**

Zeldris awoke and immediately sensed something was wrong. A moment later he realized what it was: Gelda was gone. He bolted upright in bed, his head swimming as he got his bearings, before turning to the side where she had always laid next to him.

He breathed a sigh of relief to find her there, curled up on her side. Some time in the night she must have rolled off of where he had held her against him. He ran a hand over his face and through his hair to shake off the last bit of sleep, stretching his muscles a bit as he finished waking up. Then he pulled the blanket up and around them as he slid behind her.

He brushed his mouth on her shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses along the slope of her neck. Gelda started to stir, and he smiled in excitement. Eagerly he slipped his arms around her waist and gently pulled her hips back against him, grinding into her from behind as his own body immediately began to react. "Wake up, Gelda," he whispered in her ear, one hand moving up to cover her bare breast.

"Hm?" she sighed sleepily. Zeldris chuckled and nipped her earlobe, causing the princess to arch her back in surprise.

"Wake up," he said with a grin. Gelda gave a beautiful sigh and turned her face towards him, and Zeldris used the opportunity to capture her mouth in a kiss.

It had been three weeks since the Black Claw vampires had tried to overthrow him as king, three weeks since Gelda had saved him by drinking his poisoned wine. He had known they were planning something, could read it in their fake smiles and easy greetings the moment they had walked in the door. Zeldris had tried to keep her safe by putting her directly in his line of sight the entire time, but incredibly it was Gelda who had ended up saving him.

As he caught her as she collapsed to the floor, Zeldris had thought for sure that she was dead, and the fury that he had unleashed on the usurpers was swift and deadly. He had allowed one to remain alive on the promise of an antidote, and for two days Gelda slept as the poison was slowly drained from her body.

But that was done, long over, and now he moved against Gelda, pulling one leg up to open for him. His hand skimmed down her smooth stomach to dip between her legs. She broke the kiss to turn her head away, pressing her face into the pillow with a low moan. Zeldris used the opportunity to seal his mouth on her neck, sucking her skin gently as he stroked her intimately.

She moaned his name and reached between them to take hold of his hard length. Zeldris hissed a curse as her soft hand stroked him slowly, and without even thinking he began to move his hips to pump in and out of her hand. Zeldris groaned against her neck, and when he felt like he could not take another moment, he grasped her leg and pulled it over his hip, burying his body inside hers with one stroke.

He relished the way that she gasped, the way she twisted against him. Zeldris had thought he would never hear those sounds again or feel her body fit with his again as he had watched her slowly come back to life. His feelings for her solidified in those hours, and faced with losing her— _truly_ losing her—was enough for him to abandon the impasse that had arisen between them. But when Gelda finally awoke, she had amazed him again by confessing her own heart, once more leaving him floundering for balance as he faced this new reality: Gelda loved him.

Zeldris moved his hips faster, using his fingers expertly to bring her pleasure, and Gelda moaned and rocked against him with abandon. He adored this side of her, this passionate Gelda that only he saw in their private moments together. When she was strong enough she had returned to his side in the kingdom, and he had made it clear to everyone in Edinburgh that _she_ was his choice.

Gelda's body seized against him as she crashed over the edge of pleasure, and he arched his own back as he rocked deeper inside her, the friction between their bodies pulling him towards his inevitable release. He emptied inside of her with a groan, and shivered as she felt her hand caress the side of his face. When it was over, he slipped from her body with a deep sigh of satisfaction, and Gelda rolled to her back to eagerly pull him on top of her for another slow kiss.

"Do you have to go today?" she whispered against his mouth. Her hands massaged his shoulders; the feeling was heavenly, and he shook himself against the threat of sleep that was slowly creeping over him as he relaxed.

He nipped her neck and replied, "Yes. But you should come with me. The demon realm is something you should see at least once."

To his surprise, she shivered. "The thought of seeing the demon king…" Her whispered trailed off, and he kissed her reassuringly.

"You'll need to meet him at some point if we're going to be married," he answered. "But if not now, I'll need to start by getting out of this bed."

Gelda laughed and gave him a playful tug on his hair, and as much as he did not want to, Zeldris slowly unwrapped himself from around her and climbed out of the bed. He stole glances at her as he dressed, unable to help the smirk as she laid on the covers naked, watching him shamelessly. Yes, this Gelda he liked very much indeed.

He gave her a final kiss before leaving. "Are you sure it has to be today?" she asked again, and Zeldris chuckled at the question. "I've been putting this off for days," he said. "I'd rather not make the king angry."

She nodded, and with a last brush of their lips he left. There was a direct portal to the demon realm in the castle that he had commissioned to be built soon after he took Edinburgh, so within the hour his powers were expanding outward to allow him to return to his original home.

The way to see the king was a familiar one, but it felt odd for Zeldris after so many months away. So much had happened since his father had granted his request to take Edinburgh, and he had no doubt he would be pleased with his progress. He was so confident, in fact, that he was planning to ask permission to marry Gelda and make her the queen, knowing that the king would not object to such a request.

The demon king's throne room was stark, and covered in darkness, so unlike the ornate hall of Edinburgh. He approached slowly and respectfully, suddenly glad that Gelda had not accompanied him. He had forgotten how intimidating the king could be, and he felt his demon mark flare across his forehead in preparation of meeting his father. He was incredibly powerful, and even moreso, dangerous; even though he rarely emerged from the dark throne, Zeldris could feel the energy pouring from him in waves as he drew closer.

"Zeldris, finally," the king said, and the demon bowed low in greeting. "So you've managed to tear yourself away from Edinburgh after all?"

Zeldris crossed his arms. "Everything I've done has been for your honor. Edinburgh is under my control, including its riches and its people."

The darkness moved as if the king was nodding in agreement. "I see. And have you found what you were looking for?"

"Looking for?" repeated Zeldris, frowning a bit.

"Power, glory, riches… isn't that why you wanted it?" the king asked.

Zeldris pressed his lips in a thin line, refusing to be baited. "I took Edinburgh because the king was speaking against you. My glory is yours."

"That is good to hear," the king said. "Because now we have no more need of Edinburgh, so I want you to destroy it."

"What?" Zeldris choked in surprise, but the king ignored him and went on, "Those vampires tried to kill you, so they need to be exterminated. Besides, I need you for the coming war. You shouldn't be wasting your time with with a miserable little kingdom of no real importance."

Anger flared across Zeldris' skin and across his forehead. "Edinburgh is _mine_. You _told_ me that I—"

"I told you that you could take Edinburgh," the king said evenly. His tone, however, held the trace of a threat, and Zeldris could feel a prickle of danger on his neck. "Not that you could rule it indefinitely. The goddesses have made their move, and taken the children we had hidden. Our answer must be swift. The demons must make them answer for their crimes."

"I will fight for you," Zeldris said tightly. "But do not ask me—"

"Besides," the king interrupted, "I have no use for those vampires. I want you to destroy every last one of them, and then return with the demons here."

There was a shocked silence. Zeldris balled his hands into tight fists, his body shaking with rage. "Father," he finally growled, his voice scraping like a stone, "There is something that—"

"Every. Last. One." The king's words were final, hanging heavily in the air, and he understood then that king knew all. "And if you do not care to obey me, then you can return here in chains, and I'll send your brother Meliodas to do what you could not."

Zeldris felt him pull back into the darkness, his dismissal clear. He turned and rushed out of the room, back through the dark walkways towards his return to Edinburgh, before he could do something he would regret. A red haze of fury covered his vision, his pulse raced and thudded behind his temples.

Within minutes Zeldris had returned to Edinburgh. Everyone he encountered scurried out of his path, animosity and violence nearly pulsing outwards from the king. He stormed through hallways, seeking out Gelda, until he found her in the throne room. She was sitting in her chair next to his own, listening to a group of advisors, her face etched with concentration.

The door to the room made a bang that echoed through the ceiling, and the others jumped. Gelda quickly stood, her eyes flying up in surprise at the intrusion, and then growing wide when she saw who it was. "Zeldris?" she asked, her confusion clear, and as he crossed the room, he said to the others without a glance, "Leave us."

The advisors scurried out, and moments later they were alone. Gelda drew herself up and looked down the few stairs to where he stalked across the floor. Her eyes grew wide with alarm, however, when Zeldris drew his sword. "What has happened?" she asked, her voice rising and twisting in dismay. Ignoring her question, he called on his demon powers, feeling the mark burning hot against his forehead. He grit his teeth and flicked his wrist as flames appeared to dance along the edge of the sword.

In the next moment, he shouted an angry command, and the dark magic flew from his sword. It hit the wall with an explosion, chunks of rock flying out from the crater that appeared. "Zeldris!" Gelda screamed. "What are you doing?"

The demon did not answer. Instead, he swiped his sword over and over again, one burst of magic after another shooting out to destroy the room around them. The floors, walls, columns, even the archways crumbled into heaps of rock and stone as he shattered them. The ornaments around the room, the paintings and tapestries and candles were reduced to shards; the chandelier crashed to the ground in a heap of rubble.

Wave after wave flew from him as the room was demolished. The power coursed through his body, and Zeldris was surprised by how good it felt. It was as if he was awakening from a dream: after having spent days and week and months building and creating something, he was returning to his nature to _destroy_. This was what demons did, after all, wasn't it? He could barely hear the crashing sounds around him, the screams that came from the princess who stood in front of the throne; all he could hear was the rushing of his blood, all he could feel was the electricity that danced on his skin as he ravaged the room again and again and again. If he was to destroy Edinburgh, then he was determined to do it inch by inch, stone by stone. Zeldris never wavered in his grim determination, and within minutes the great throne room of Edinburgh, where generations of kings had sat to rule, was eradicated.

When it was over, the king drew in deep breaths, his arms shaking from the overload of power from his shattering display. The noise from the explosions eventually dissipated, and suddenly everything was still as the falling rocks and objects all ceased. Zeldris drew himself up and looked over at the throne.

It stood on the dais, completely untouched, although there was dust from the debris settling all around. On the steps stood Gelda, her hands covering her mouth and her eyes wide in shock. When their gazes met, he immediately saw the fear and hurt in her eyes, and it caused him to take a step backwards. He realized what this looked like, in that moment, to her, utterly erasing the very symbol of the vampires' strength for centuries. Suddenly his throat felt tight, and he clenched the hand around his sword as he looked away.

"What have you done?" she cried out, and his eyes snapped back to her in that moment, his heart thudding in his chest. Would this be the last time he looked at her? He opened his mouth to speak, but then quickly closed it. How could he tell her this was over? That what they had worked towards, that they had shared, was for nothing? How could he ever do this? His eyes traced over her body, that he had loved on countless occasions, back to her eyes, that seemed to pierce right through him. How could he do this? Then, the answer came to his mind: _I can't_.

But there was no choice. Disobedience meant death.

With long strides he walked towards the dais, his chin lowered with determination. Gelda tore her hands away from her mouth and shouted, "Stop! What are you doing?" She tried to hurry down the steps to the floor but Zeldris pushed past her easily, coming to a stop in front of the throne. It was the last piece of the throne room that had not been destroyed, and as he looked at it he was filled with revulsion at what he had done, and what he still needed to do.

"No! Zeldris, please!" He ignored Gelda as he stared at the ornate chair he had sat in himself for days and days as the king. There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought of the days to come, that he had thought he would be spending ruling Edinburgh as a powerful monarch, with Gelda at his side. He narrowed his eyes at the throne and called on his power, making the sword in his hand pulse, when a pair of hands grabbed his arm. "Stop!" Gelda shouted. "Stop! Now!"

He brushed her off easily, but then Gelda gripped him with both hands by the collar of his shirt and yanked him around to face her. "Zeldris!" she cried again, and he was suddenly taken aback with the streaks of tears on her cheeks. Disgusted with her and himself, he went to move away, but she pulled again until he turned. "Tell me what happened!" she shouted. "Tell me why you are doing this!"

"I have to," he growled at her. "The demon king wants Edinburgh destroyed. He wants all of this gone."

"No," she whispered. Her hands on his collar tightened for a moment, and then she released him as they began to shake. "No, no, you _can't_ , you can't do this—"

"Gelda," he hissed, grabbing her by the arms, wanting to pull her against him and shove her away at the same time. "He told me to destroy Edinburgh. To destroy all the vampires."

Her face crumpled, making Zeldris suck in a sharp breath. She whimpered his name, and the sound pierced into his chest. "Will you destroy me, then?" she asked quietly. Gelda reached up and placed a palm on his cheek, delicately brushing her fingers on his skin. "Will you…?" Her voice trailed off as her eyes became unfocused, as if she were thinking of something else. She stroked his cheek with her thumb as her other hand slid down his chest. He was sure she could feel the way his heart was thumping in his chest, and her palm slid inside of the opening in his shirt. Her fingers pressed against his skin for a moment before she pulled it away and covered her stomach with her palm.

Gelda closed her eyes and turned the the side. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice pained. "I want to be stronger for you. But I—I'm so afraid." He watched her silently as she hugged herself, fighting to keep himself in control. Then she looked back at him sadly. "What will happen to you if you do not do this?" Zeldris remained silent, his face impassable, and Gelda nodded. "I see. Then you must."

"What?" he said sharply. "No!" She opened her mouth to argue, but Zeldris stepped forward to close the space between them. He grabbed her and pulled her against him, tilting her as his mouth covered hers.

He held her there for several long moments, kissing her fiercely, before finally pulling back enough to say against her lips, "I won't do it."

Zeldris thought of everything he had taken from her: her father, her kingdom, her title, her body. Then he thought of what she gave him: her heart, her life, her love. She had faced death for him, and was now willing to do so again. But this time, it was Zeldris who would give his life for her.


	12. The Vampire Queen

**Chapter 12: The Vampire Queen**

Queen Gelda of Edinburgh sat in her chair inside the little cave that was now her home, staring at the small fire that burned. She did not often light a fire at night, not wanting to be discovered. But now, she felt as though it did not matter much.

Many long months had passed since she had stolen away from the castle in which she had lived her entire life, hiding in various places around Britannia until Zeldris had finally found this cave. It was a part of a small group of cliffs in the far western edge of Britannia. It was rather desolate, with only the occasional wayward animal for company. The ground was too rocky for farming or pasturing, and the sea was too rough for fishing, so the humans kept away. It was an excellent spot for Gelda to sit and wait for the end of the Great War.

Zeldris was gone for stretches at a time as he served in the demon army. His status as prince and his overwhelming power allowed him to take control of his own command. The demons had attacked Britannia and slaughtered thousands, and in retaliation the goddesses had slaughtered their children; two brutal acts that sparked a war between the clans. It was a horrifying truth that would leave Gelda upset, especially as she held her own son in her arms.

He was the one bit of joy in the isolation of the cave, a boy she had delivered four months after Edinburgh had been sealed. She had named him Rian, the little king; a prince of vampires without a kingdom. When his father would come, the prince would light up like a spark. It was those moments that kept her heart and her mind from abandoning her, and she held them fiercely when she was alone again.

It had been two weeks since the last time Zeldris had stayed with them, and his visit had been short and tense. The war had been going exceptionally well, and he had kissed her and told her that they were sure to be free of it within the year. Gelda had been relieved at the news, celebrating with him during the few days of the visit. She did not know what their future would be, since she was supposed to be gone with the other vampires; but she knew she wanted to take their son and give him a real home, with the upbringing due to a prince. However this time, when he returned, Zeldris' mood was dark. His brother Meliodas had abandoned the demons, and without their most powerful weapon, the scales had evened between the two sides.

He was stiff with the boy that day, who was just beginning to pull himself to stand, and barely responded as Gelda described the little things he was learning, and how she had to chase him away from trouble as he explored everything. That night as the baby slept, Zeldris held her tightly, kissing her fiercely, his attentions on her harsher than he had been since they had first met. Gelda had tried to soothe him with gentle hands and an eager mouth, but he ended up taking her roughly. His passion for her was not the smoldering desire she was used to, but rather an explosion of lust that had left her shaken.

Afterwards, she learned why he was so angry: not only had Meliodas betrayed them, but he had done so for a goddess. "He is with that filthy woman while you're forced to hide here, in a cave," Zeldris said bitterly the next day, as he was preparing to leave. Gelda put her arms tightly around him, and neither spoke for a while as they held each other.

That was two weeks ago, the last time she had seen Zeldris, and she looked deeper into the flames. Even this far out in Britannia, the news of the end of the war had spread. The demons were gone, sealed away with powerful magic harnessed from the four clans. They were gone, never to be seen again, the seal itself broken and scattered to the four corners of the world.

It was dark, and silent. Not even the wind made a sound, no birds or insects could be heard outside. Only the faint crashing of the sea against the cliff registered as Gelda watched the fire. She had no idea what to do, where to go, how to carry on, if she even should. Her mind cycled through the months she had spent with Zeldris, each memory sharper than the last. She wondered if he was hurt, if he was thinking of her. She wondered where his traitorous brother was, and the woman he loved. She wondered if they had made a family, even as he had destroyed hers.

There was a noise across the cave, and Gelda slowly went to her son. He was awake, and she scooped him up and returned to her chair, patting his back as she held him against her shoulder. "Did you know," she murmured, "that you are a prince?" The boy calmed at the sound of her soothing voice, his small arms curling against her chest as they settled in together. "Your father was a king," she whispered. "So was your grandfather, and his father, and his, all the way back for thousands of years."

She brushed her fingers through the boy's hair, just as she had done to Zeldris when he dozed against her at night. "One day you will be a king, too. I will take you back to Edinburgh, and we will release the vampires. Because you see, the king did not destroy them as he was told. He sealed them away, so we could bring them back at the right time." The boy was drifting back to sleep now, and she kissed his head. "You will be the king of Edinburgh, just like your father," she promised.

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you once again to everyone who read this story, and a special thank you for the comments, faves, and follows. I hope you enjoyed _another_ retelling of this couple that has completely captured my imagination.


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